The Conquerable Man
by Jamieson Zed
Summary: Abducted and missing for weeks, Rhade finally returns - beaten and broken - to the Andromeda. The crew will learn that the road to recovery is not easy, and relationships will be tried, tested, and altered as a result. B/R.
1. Prologue: Summon the Darkness

**DISCLAIMER:** I own nothing, not even the words - only the order in which they were placed.

That said, the idea is all mine, to the best of my knowledge. However, those names, places, and details representing the Andromeda universe belong to Tribune et al., I make no money off this. You can try suing me if you want, but due to my status as a poor University student who, aside from some archaeology texts, has less than nothing, you could very well end up owing _me _money! …Hmm, on second thought….

**RATING:** PG-13/T for some mild violence. I don't believe it needs to be any higher (then again, I've devoted over half my life to martial arts, so my opinion might be biased), but if it becomes a concern I will change it accordingly.

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** First off, this is my first attempt at Andromeda fic - hopefully it'll turn out alright, but in case some of the characterizations are off, you've been warned. I actually started this thing way back in October and have gradually been working on it since then, as my hectic schedule has permitted. This is by far the longest story I've written, and I'm almost done - I've vowed never to post a WIP again, but since I know for a fact it's almost done, I figured I'd cheat a little. That said, I still have to type up most of it and then tweak it a little, so hopefully I haven't just jinxed myself.

For the record, this takes place sometime late in Season 4 and diverges into AU-land after that - no "Dissonant Interval" here. I actually enjoyed most of the episode, but it doesn't work for what I have in mind.

Hope you enjoy this first little bit. Let me know what you think - whatever helps me to improve! Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

* * *

**The Conquerable Man**

* * *

**PROLOGUE - Summon the Darkness**

The sound of rusted metal upon rusted metal permeated the ship. The prisoner was unceremoniously tossed to the floor of the makeshift cell, the only home he had known for the last five weeks. The first guard delivered a vicious kick to his stomach to ensure the prisoner would stay down while the second guard prepared to fasten him to the wall, not that he could have conceivably tried anything on his own had his life depended on it, not right now.

The third guard had his weapon trained on the fetal form, just in case.

From the depths

I challenge thee

Up and up

Through the sea

The first guard grabbed the two-foot length of chain that ran from one imprisoned hand to the other at the center and pulled with all his strength, dragging the dead weight to the back wall. He kept a careful watch, ready to spring, while the second guard quickly and efficiently applied the other set of chains at the midsection of the first, allowing the prisoner movement of no more than two feet from the dull, dirty metal. Provided, of course, that he could command his broken body to move at all.

With the final clang of the clasp, the second guard moved away and out the door without so much as a glance back. The first guard started to follow, but suddenly stopped and tuned back. Without a single expression crossing his face, he reared back and swung his foot once again, barely missing the prisoner's jaw as the kick landed on his upper chest. The sound of cracking ribs followed, all that could be heard - the prisoner had lost the will to cry out a week ago.

Behind the blanket

Of despair

The poem from his childhood. The poem he had recited so many times since his imprisonment that the words no longer held meaning.

For nought a maiden

Ever fair

The poem whose consistency allowed him to hold on to the last vestiges of his sanity, if anything did indeed remain. This, he focused on.

Than death

Just 'round the corner

His work done, the first guard resumed his exit. The third guard followed suit, but paused before he reached the doorway. He trained his eyes on the crumpled form trying to catch his breath and holstered his weapon rather loudly, intentionally drawing the proverbial dagger - the pathetic prisoner wasn't even worth the security measure. The dagger could very nearly be seen slitting the throat of his prisoner's will as the guard shook his head and muttered, "Pitiful," before slamming the thick door shut behind him.

Pitiful. For a Nietzschean, there were few insults more cutting.

For Telemachus Rhade, it was perhaps the worst of them all.


	2. Blame Game, Round One

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Ratings.

Well, I was going to wait a bit before posting this, but the monotony of studying for my Ancient City exam is getting to me, which I guess is a bonus for you (or not - that must wait to be determined). So here you go, let me know what you think. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

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PART ONE - Blame Game, Round One

_"Sorry boss,"_ Harper could be heard over Andromeda's communications net, his voice lacking its definitive bubbly tone,_ "We've got nothing, just like we…" _he trailed off, realizing what he was about to say._ "We've got nothing."_

Dylan hung his head and sighed. "Very well, Mr. Harper. We'll meet you two in the Sokorvo system in two days."

Rommie was standing on the bridge of the Maru, behind Harper. _"Yes, Captain." _The screen abruptly went blank, then switched to show the Andromeda's AI persona.

Dylan turned to Beka at the Andromeda's flight console. "Beka, set in a course. Trance," he turned to the golden alien, "Bring up that map again, let's see if we can--"

"Why bother?"

Dylan and Trance both whipped their heads up to look at the first officer. "What was that?" The captain demanded.

Beka looked up from her display, frustration emanating from her form. "Why bother?" she repeated. "It's been over a month, Dylan. A month. The chances of him being alive are slim enough, what makes you think we're actually gonna be able to find him, huh?"

Captain Hunt took a breath, trying to control his temper. His first officer had been very difficult lately. "We have to have faith, Beka. Would you want us to give up if your roles were reversed?"

She shook her head and scoffed. "Whatever." Shifting her gaze to the main screen, where the AI had been watching from, she commanded, "Andromeda, engage autopilot."

"Autopilot engaged."

With that, First Officer Valentine pushed away form her station and stomped off toward the exit.

"Beka." No answer. "Beka!" Dylan's only response was her back as she left Command. "Perfect," he muttered.

"Dylan, do you want me to--"

"No, Trance," he sighed, "I'll go. Stay here and keep and eye on things."

And so Trance Gemini was left alone on the bridge to contemplate this latest problem.

-o-

He found her on Obs deck, staring off in to space - literally. As he walked further into the room, he waited for her to acknowledge his presence. When no such acknowledgement came, he finally said, in a calm voice, "What the hell was that back there?"

Beka didn't even bother to look at him. "I only said what no one else was willing to say. The truth."

"So that's it? We just give up on him? 'Sorry Telemachus, but your search is becoming too much of a nuisance for Captain Valentine?'"

Beka spun around so she was seated facing him - what he had anticipated. "Don't go pinning this on me."

He stared at her hardened expression for a few moments before saying anything. Then, "What's wrong, Beka?"

She didn't answer him. Instead, she stood up and began to pace. It didn't matter, he was fairly certain he knew the cause. "It's guilt, isn't it?"

Her slight hesitation, mid-stride, was all the answer he needed.

"Oh it is, alright," he muttered, more to himself. To her, he said, "Beka, I don't know what it is you feel guilty about, but you can stop right now." She just stared at him and kept moving. He tried a different tactic. "Okay, so maybe you two never hit it off on the right foot, maybe you always disagreed, but I know you were starting to work out your differences."

He walked up to her and put his hands on her shoulders, forcing her to stop in her tracks. "But it's not your fault, it's no one's fault. Rhade was…Rhade _is_ a grown man, responsible for his own choices. And he _chose_ to go off by himself, against the warnings of the Vyshiian. Not you."

"You're wrong." It had been said barely above a whisper.

"What?"

She looked up at him. "You're wrong," she repeated, more forcefully this time. Beka twisted free of his grip and walked back to where she had been when he first found her, her back facing him.

"Rhade was angry," she began, crossing her arms and fixing her gaze on the stars, "That's why he walked off by himself. Because _I_ pissed him off."

Dylan slowly walked up to her, stopping just a few feet behind. "How?"

Sighing in defeat, she explained. "Before he left, I said some things about…well, let's just say I said some things. He got pissed and took off, and I didn't try to stop him." She turned around to face her friend. "Even though I knew what the Ambassador warned us about, I just let him go."

He took a good look at her when she fell silent. She looked tired. No wonder, if she had been blaming herself for her crewmate's disappearance over the last month and a half. "Beka, I repeat: it's not your fault."

She stared at the ground. "There's something else, isn't there?" he prodded. "It has something to do with what you said to him." It wasn't a question.

_When the hell did I become an open book?_ she wondered, a little bitterly. Her expression hardened. "Like I said, he was really angry."

"Oh," he drew out, understanding. "You're afraid you won't be able to apologize."

She gave him an exasperated look that said, _stop reading my thoughts._ He sighed. "I saw the way you two were acting before he went missing, you were getting along."

"For the benefit of the crew," she tossed out.

"You were becoming _friends_," he asserted. "We all care, Beka, including you. But you can't give up."

She was silent for several long seconds. When she finally spoke, nothing was given away, except for her fatigue. "I'll go along with what you want, Dylan. But I don't think we'll find him."

With that she walked off, leaving Dylan alone on Obs deck. He shook his head and turned his attention to the stars, his voice no more than a whisper. "That's a start."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	3. In Lieu of Death

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Ratings. Quick warning - no actual violence in this chapter, but it does contain descriptions of the aftermath.

This chapter is dedicated to the fact that as of a few hours ago, I am officially DONE my second year of university (not counting my field course in Belize - less than two weeks!), and I am currently halfway to my archaeology degree. Thus, I felt like celebrating, fic-style!

Thanks to all who reviewed, good to know I'm getting it at least somewhat on target. Hopefully I'll continue to do so. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

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**PART TWO - In Lieu of Death**

Dylan rolled over and grumbled incoherently as he was awoken by Harper's voice. _"Command to Captain Hunt? We, uh, we got ourselves a little problem up here."_

He looked at the time and muttered some more - he'd only been asleep for a little under three hours. "What is it, Harper?"

"Andromeda's sensors picked up an automated distress beacon in this backwater system, about six AU out."

The captain closed his eyes. When he opened them once again, he was slightly more aware. "Set out towards it, I'm on my way."

-o-

When he arrived in Command, Andromeda filled him in.

"The distress call is emanating from a small freighter in orbit of a large asteroid. Based on the timestamp imbedded in the beacon, I estimate the transmission was first activated three days ago."

Dylan looked at the small ship on the screen - it wasn't much larger than the Maru. "Lifesigns?"

"There is a radiation leak that seems to be confined to the lower decks, however it is interfering with my sensors. I can't get any specific readings from inside the ship itself."

The captain was silent, contemplating his options. "Very well. Harper, get Beka and Trance up here. We go EVA."

_-o-0-o-_

_They greeted the Vyshiian outside the docking bay. "Ambassador Nané , welcome aboard."_

_The Ambassador bowed his head. "Thank you, Captain Hunt. It is an impressive ship."_

_Rommie gave the hint of a smile. "Thank you."_

_Dylan went through the introductions of his senior officers, while the Vyshiian did the same with his aides._

_"Well Ambassador, while we conduct our negotiations, some of my crew would like to take a visit down to Makhoiian Drift to gather supplies. With your permission, of course."_

_The ambassador smiled. "Of course, Captain. However, I must make one request, that your crew confine their business to the Vyshiian sectors. The Makaei and the Vyshiian coexist peacefully because we do not interfere with one another. Politically." The ambassador tried his best to be cheerful as he added, "At the current time you are the honoured guests of the Vyshiian, but not of the Makaei. It can be…dangerous…to enter the Makaei sectors without that distinction."_

_The captain nodded, then turned to his crew. "You heard the ambassador, you are not to enter Makaei-controlled areas."_

_His senior staff nodded and answered with a round of_ 'yes sirs,'_ something they did only for the benefit of the Vyshiian envoy. He sighed inwardly, _if only they could show that discipline all the time.

_Dylan turned back to his guest. "Ambassador, if you would please follow me." _

He and Rommie led the envoy away from the bay. Meanwhile, Beka looked around at her crewmates. "Alright troops, you heard the man." She headed down to the Maru, with Harper, Rhade, and Trance in tow.

_-o-0-o-_

Beka and Trance followed Dylan through the airlock of the freighter. Lights flickered down the corridor. Dylan checked the readout on the display of his EV suit sleeve.

"Well, life support is operational, and the radiation seems to be confined to the lower decks. We're safe, for now."

Both he and Beka removed their helmets - Trance had declined the offer of protection. The air was stale, but breathable.

"Trance, can you get any readings?"

"Sorry Dylan, the radiation isn't strong enough to effect us here, but it's still interfering with our equipment. I can't determine any lifesigns."

"I guess we do it the old-fashioned way, then," Beka quipped.

Dylan started down the corridor, cautiously. "I guess so."

-o-

They had made their way from the airlock into the crew quarters. Stepping through a door, the three of them stopped suddenly in their tracks and took in the sight before them.

Two bodies, humans, were strewn across the floor, their eyes unseeing. Dried blood covered their clothes and skin. Another was found in similar condition, draped across a table. The stench of decay was almost overpowering, having been kept confined by the door until they'd opened it. Decomposing food sat on a second table, waiting to be finished off.

"This can't be good," Beka thought aloud. Dylan and Trance nodded.

They kept moving, stepping over the bodies carefully. When Trance paused to check one of the bodies, Dylan called out, "We look for survivors, then we can come back and figure out what the hell happened."

Trance reluctantly stepped away and rejoined her crewmates.

As they made their way further into the ship, they came across the odd corpse here or there, looking very much like the first ones. After a few minutes, Dylan made an observation. "No burns."

"What?" Beka asked, confused.

"There are no burn marks from weapons' fire."

Beka raises an eyebrow and gestured with her gun to a black mark on the nearby bulkhead - one of several. "Uh, did you hit your head there, Captain Observant? 'Cause I've noticed a few of them so far. "

He didn't look up. "No, the bodies. None of them has a single burn on them." He looked around the corridor, as if seeing something for the first time. "_They_ were the ones with the weapons…" he trailed off, noting the looks he earned from Beka and Trance - the implications were unnerving.

"What could do this?" Trance wondered.

Dylan looked up at her and attempted to lighten the mood. "Don't you know?"

It didn't work.

"I say we split up, look faster," Beka supplied, her grip on her weapon tightening ever so much.

"I don't think that's such a good idea," Dylan replied, looking around.

"Look, the faster we search, the faster we leave. It's been three days, chances are whatever did this is long gone. And I don't know if you noticed back there, but whoever or whatever it was, they attacked these guys off guard - we're prepared." She saw he was about to protest, so she added, "We can take care of ourselves."

He thought it over. "Fine, but I want constant traffic. And don't move to another deck until I say so - if anyone runs into trouble, I want quick backup." His officers nodded. "Okay, Beka take the left, Trance right."

The women nodded, and the three of them moved off in separate directions. They each searched their sections of the ship, moving through the decks simultaneously, letting the others know when they came across another corpse. So far, their count had reached nine.

Dylan reached the last of his section of hallway on their present deck. "I take it no survivors yet?" he asked over the sub-dermal communication link.

"That would be no."

"Negative."

"Do either of you have any more ground to cover on this deck?"_"_

_Yeah,"_ he heard Beka answer,_ "One more corridor over here."_

"I'm done, Dylan."

"Alright," he began, "This is as far down as we go, the next deck is where the radiation is coming from. Trance, sit tight, I'll meet up with you, then we'll go get Beka. Beka? Finish off your area, then we'll head out of here."

They agreed, and carried out the Captain's orders.

-o-

Beka made her way to the end of the corridor, relieved that they were getting off this death ship soon. As she approached the final door at the end of the hallway, she heard over their link that Dylan had met up with Trance.

"No sense you two coming out here, we have to double back that way, anyway," she told them as she stepped through the door, "I'll be there in a…damn."

"Beka?"

"Three more…make that four more bodies," she replied, spotting the fourth crumpled in the corner. "Alright, I'm coming back your way." She turned to leave.

Suddenly she stopped, still in the center of the room, as her ears picked up something familiar.

_No,_ she thought,_ It's impossible._

But as she strained her ears, she could make out the unmistakable sound of laboured breathing. She turned back around in time to see the head of the fourth body in the corner move.

Gripping her weapon and pointing it at the very-much-alive body, she said, "Uh, guys? You might want to put that figure back down to three." She stepped closer, carefully.

_"What was that?"_ she heard Dylan ask.

"I think I might have a survi…" she trailed off abruptly when the figure in question, with much effort, moved his body to look at her.

The first thing she noticed was the blood - it was both dried, like the others had displayed, and fresh in places, covering the majority of his body. The second was the series of protrusions, also covered in blood, erupting from his left arm - she couldn't see the right - indicating his species: Nietzschean.

The last thing Beka Valentine noticed, the most vivid, was pure animal rage behind the survivor's eyes - running on instinct, unfocused. Because of the blood and severe injury to the man in front of her, it took a few seconds for her to register she was looking into the wild eyes of one Telemachus Rhade.

* * *

**To Be Continued…**

Sabbie - Jeez woman, now you've gone and done it! I'm stuck on that promise now, aren't I? Alrighty, we'll see what happens with internet access down there. I'll try my best. PS - might want to update your profile, you're about 2 years behind!


	4. Lost and Found and Lost Again

See Prologue for Disclaimers and Ratings. Once again, a very small warning, _some_ violence in this part, but hardly worth mentioning.

I'm leaving for my parents' house today, and next week I'm off to Belize for over a month, so this is the last chapter that I'll be able to upload from my own computer. _Hopefully_ I can upload from other computers (I've had issues doing so in the past, but I think I can fix that), but just in case, I thought I'd warn people.

Thanks to all who have reviewed. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

**

* * *

**

**PART THREE - Lost and Found and Lost Again**

"Rhade?" Beka gasped, barely able believe what was right in front of her eyes. The only response she received was a low growl from deep in his throat, while he used all his strength to climb to his feet. She instinctively stepped back.

_"Beka? Beka!"_ both Dylan and Trance called over the commlink.

"Dylan," she began, backing up once more - Rhade awkwardly stepped toward her, hunched over, limping and staggering, as if his body couldn't decide which part to favour. Quickly, she said, "I found him, he's--"

_"BEKA!"_ she heard her captain shout as she abruptly cut off her sentence when Rhade sprang at her, knocking her to the floor. Her gun went skidding to the far wall.

He used his weight to hold her down and brought his hands up to grab the sides of her face roughly, immobilizing her head. His feral eyes found her frightened ones; he growled again. It was then she noticed the length of chain running from one wrist to another. It, like everything else, was rusted with blood.

"Rhade…" she barely managed. Then suddenly, she grabbed at the force lance by her side - a forgotten backup Dylan had insisted upon back on the Andromeda - and jammed it into his side, delivering a plasma charge. He took the brunt of the shock, and the energy level wasn't too high, but part of the energy wave was transferred back to Beka herself. And so, instead of running away at that point, she had only managed to scramble to her feet when the Nietzschean recovered.

He grabbed her and shoved her up against the wall, the force knocking the weapon from her hand. He brought his left forearm up, bone blades extended, the blood-encrusted tips resting just an inch from her exposed throat.

Once again, Beka's eyes locked onto his. "Rhade…_Rhade_, listen to me," she said, more forcefully. "Fight it, Rhade…it's me, it's Beka."

A spark of hope ignited when she saw him blink and attempt to focus his eyes. "Come on, Rhade," she coaxed, trying her best to sound calm. Slowly, she felt his hold on her relax, and out of the corner of her eye she saw his bone blades retract back to lie against his skin. He continued to breathe heavily.

"Beka?" he asked, as if he couldn't fathom her presence in this…place. His voice was quiet, raspy, unused. She swallowed hard and nodded slowly, trying to calm her beating heart.

Barely above a whisper, he repeated, "Beka…." He slowly pulled his arm away form her exposed neck and dropped it limply to his side. "I'm sorry…."

"It's okay," she reassured in an equally quiet voice.

Beka watched as her strong, solid Nietzschean crewmate slowly sunk his battered body to his knees in front of her, head thrown back, eyes screwed shut. She could hear him breathing even harder now, almost as if he were hyperventilating. In between laboured breaths, she heard him whispering, endlessly repeating, "I'm sorry…I'm sorry…."

Unsure of what to do, she knelt down in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders, trying to comfort her crewmate - her friend. He bent his upper body down and rested his forehead on her left shoulder, his mantra dying down significantly - but not, she lamented, completely. At a loss for words, Beka slid her arms around his back, careful not to press too hard; from her vantage point, she could see spots of fresh blood seeping through his torn shirt, and those were only the injuries immediately apparent.

"Beka!" Dylan and Trance rushed across the threshold, only to stop short at the sight before them.

Beka, tilting her head to look over Rhade's own, gave them a look that said, _Careful_. Then, in a soft voice, she called, "Trance."

The golden girl walked closer, followed by Dylan; she couldn't keep the horrified look from her face as she took in the sight of her crewmate.

Rhade made no indication that he knew anyone else had entered the room. However, he had finally ceased his repeating words, if not his heavy breathing.

Trance knelt down beside the two. "Telemachus?" she asked softly. No answer.

Beka brought her hands back to his shoulders and pushed gently, forcing him upright. "Rhade?"

What she saw then was perhaps more frightening than his injuries, than his earlier ferocity. His eyes were open and staring into hers, but they were unfocused once more. Unlike earlier, though, there was nothing wild or feral in them. There was _nothing_, period - his eyes were seeing, but lacked any sort of expression. He simply continued to stare straight ahead; Beka wondered if he even knew where he was.

"Dylan," Trance turned to him, "We have to get him back to the Andromeda."

The captain nodded. "Understood."

He turned and walked a few feet away before hailing his ship. "Mr. Harper, have the Med deck prepped, one survivor with severe injuries." He hesitated, then added, "We found him."

There was a long pause, and then, _"Uh…say again?"_

Dylan looked back at the shattered form of his officer and let out his breath. "Rhade, Mr. Harper," he announced, lacking any of the enthusiasm or relief he would have thought to have at this moment. "We found him."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	5. Beholding the Eye

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Ratings.

Was going to wait until Friday, but it was done so I figured "why not?" There _will_ be another update before I leave Saturday morning, but after that I can guarantee anything. The plan was to upload on the weekends when I go into town, however the Belizean hydro works have been threatening to strike, so there's a chance there won't beany power (doesn't affect me at site, but will make it a tad difficult to get internet access). So far they haven't, but we'll have to wait and see.

Thanks to all who have reviewed! Love to know people are enjoying it. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

**

* * *

PART FOUR - Beholding the Eye**

_Rhade followed Beka onto the_ Maru _after she'd deactivated the security codes, and they made their way to the crew quarters. He lowered himself down to one of the bunks with a contented sigh, resting his head against the metal wall, eyes closed. _

_She gave him an amused look from her chair, opposite the bunk. "Didn't enjoy our little adventure?"_

_He opened his eyes and the ghost of a smile settled onto his features. "Several hours spent haggling with Vyshiian merchants? Not my idea of fun."_

_She played along. "I thought admirals liked to haggle?"_

_He just shook his head, the grin widening. "No Vyshiians on Tarazed."_

_"Right."_

_A long silence followed. Rhade leaned back once more, while Beka's gaze wandered around the living quarters, attempt to amuse herself. It didn't work._

_"So," she said loudly, causing the Nietzschean to open his eyes, "What should we do?"_

_"Do?"_

_"Yeah," she replied, standing up and supporting the wall with her back, arms crossed in front of her. "Harper and Trance said they'd be another couple of hours, and we have to wait here while Minos--"_

_"Mikos."_

_"Right, Mikos…wait for him to deliver the supplies, otherwise he'll take them back and then we're screwed. So…" she let the thought hang._

_"…So," he picked it up, "What should we do?" Beka nodded, awaiting a suggestion. He thought for a moment, then spoke with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Actually, what Mikos said was that_ someone _needed to be here…and since it's_ your _ship…."_

_Beka scoffed. "Please. You don't want to spend another minute with those whiny little creeps anymore than I do." The Vyshiian spoke with a high-pitched nasal tone, which was especially grating to sensitive Nietzschean auditory centers. They were also known for the annoying habit of making numerous cryptic statements to tourists for the sheer pleasure of it._

_Rhade have a small nod. "That's true," he replied matter-of-factly, while he relaxed back against the wall and closing his eyes yet again. "I'd much rather get some rest."_

_Beka rolled her eyes. "Bor-ing…."_

_His eyes flickered open again, and he stared at her for a couple of seconds. Then he shrugged and started to get up._

_"_Alright_, alright," she sighed, stopping him from leaving. "You win. Go sleep." She sat back down at the small mess table, staring at nothing in particular._

_Rhade sat back down on the bunk with a look of triumph. After a few long moments of silence, however, in which his normally restless crewmate remained seated, drawing invisible designs on the table with a nail, he gave in._

_"Beka?" he asked in an obvious fake-sweet voice, "What do_ you _want to do?"_

_She turned to him with a wide grin. "I don't know."_

_He sighed. "Well, this_ _is productive." _

_"Hey," she retorted, "I asked you first."_

_Rhade just shook his head, and another heavy silence descended over the Maru. This time, though, it was he who took the initiative._

_"Do you have the copy of_ The Will to Power _I lent you?" After an argument several weeks ago where he'd accused her of being ignorant of Nietzschean culture and beliefs, she'd challenged him to 'enlighten' her. He'd accepted. _

_"Uh, I think so…."_

_"Get it."_

_-o-0-o-_

Seamus Harper had had many run-ins with Nietzscheans over the years, but never in his wildest dreams did he expect what he saw next.

He was walking briskly toward Medical when he intercepted his crewmates on their way back from the _Maru's_ hangar. Trance was ahead of the others by several meters and was widening the distance, hurrying to her domain to ensure her patient would not have to wait. She sent him a worried look, but didn't stop to chat.

Beka came next, an arm wrapped around Rhade's back and side, while the other held onto his own arm, flung around her shoulder. The Nietzschean, while leaning heavily on the first officer, was still able to walk upright…sort of. He was hunched over, his free arm clutched to his torso, knees looking like they were ready to buckle; miraculously, they managed to keep him upright. But that wasn't what caught Harper's attention.

Rhade's head hung and he was staring at the floor, but Harper managed to catch a glimpse at his face, his eyes - inside them he saw emptiness. No pain, no rage, no relief…nothing. He'd never seen a Nietzschean in that state before, not even when he was younger and he'd snuck a look at the Über the adults had managed to capture and beat for information, back on Earth. This was entirely different.

As they approached closer, Harper shook the thoughts from his mind. Noting the dark splotches standing out from the lighter shade of her EV suit, he gestured and asked, "Boss?"

"Not mine," Beka managed, breathing heavily. It was obvious the strain of Rhade's larger frame was getting to her. He wondered why Dylan, who was two steps behind, didn't help her to support his officer.

As they reached him, Harper fell into step on the other side of his battered crewmate. He shot a weird look at his captain and reached for Rhade's side, saying, "Here, let me hel--"

"No, Harper!" Dylan commanded sharply, just as he heard a menacing growl rumble low in the injured man's throat. Beka and Rhade abruptly stopped.

Harper jumped back and caught another look at Rhade's eyes. He was still staring at the floor ahead of him - he didn't so much as look at him - but rage flashed through them momentarily, leaving as soon as the engineer had moved away.

Beka didn't look at her long-time friend, instead she looked at the Nietzschean - or rather, the side of his bloodied head. "Rhade," she spoke calmly and gently, "Relax."

After a few tense moments, the low growl subsided, and he and Beka resumed their huddled walk down the corridor.

Harper watched them, wide-eyed, as he took a few steps to stand by the captain. He turned to Dylan with a disbelieving look on his face.

"Beka found him, he was the only one left alive," Dylan explained, turning to his engineer only after the two in question were no longer in sight. "She seems to be the only one he recognizes, but I don't think he's taken a good look around him yet."

Harper's tone turned from disbelief to concern. "What happened to him?"

"I don't know," he sighed, "But I intend to find out."

Harper nodded, and looked back down the empty corridor, as if he could see through the bulkheads.

"Get back to command," Dylan continued, "And get a team together - engineers and medics. I want them over there as soon as possible, you and Rommie too. I'll be up in a few minutes to go over everything." Harper saw the look of determination on the man's face - Captain Hunt was very protective of his crew, he was taking Rhade's condition personally.

He watched as Dylan turned and walked off, presumably going to his quarters. Harper took one final look in the general direction of Med deck, then hurried back the way he had come.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	6. Thank Drago for Nietzschean Programming

See Prologue for Disclaimer and Ratings.

Alrighty, so here it is, the final _guaranteed_ chapter for the next few weeks. I hop on a plane tomorrow (yay for 3am wake-up calls), but hopefully I'll get a chance to update next weekend, provided all goes well. (I'm only sad that I'm going to have to wait until sometime after June to catch the series finale.)

I really appreciate all who have reviewed so far, you guys make this all worth-while. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

**

* * *

PART FIVE - Thank Drago for Nietzschean Programming**

After delivering Rhade to Trance, the golden alien had shooed Beka out so she could get to work. She took the opportunity to get out the foul EV suit and had a nice, long shower, however she couldn't help but feel her skin continue to crawl as she thought of what they'd seen aboard the freighter.

She attempted to find something to do, but since Dylan was taking care of readying the team that was to go check out the other ship, and they weren't planning on leaving anytime soon, Beka found herself back at Medical. Compared to when she'd been chased away several hours earlier, the flurry of activity around the injured Nietzschean had died down quite a bit. Trance found a few minutes to fill her in on a few details, but Beka suspected she wanted to confer with Hunt before dishing out too much.

What she did find out, however, was a testament to Rhade's survivalist nature. The list of injuries ran long: numerous fractured and broken ribs, a partially-healed break on one leg with several additional fractures lining both lower limbs, a dislocated shoulder, and a healing clavicle. There were indications of more fractures in various stages of healing lining both arms, and even his bone blades hadn't been spared. Evidence of a severe injury to his left eye orbit was found, but luckily the bone hadn't shattered. In addition, his body was covered with innumerable bruises and small skin lacerations. He had lost a lot of blood, both internally and externally, and he had been extremely dehydrated.

At the moment he wasn't pretty, but, thanks to Trance's care and Nietzschean nanobots, he was stable. When asked why he had been acting so strangely when they found him, exploding with rage and then dropping to the point where he was only semi-conscious, Trance could only venture a guess.

"Most likely he was experiencing shock and fluctuations in adrenaline, as well as other hormones, for several _days_," she emphasized the word. "He was able to keep going because he had to."

Beka nodded. "Survival - it's everything and the only thing to a Nietzschean."

"Yes. But when we showed up and he saw you, he must have realized he was no longer alone. That's when his body allowed the shock to set in."

"Right…." Beka glanced to the far end of Medical, where Rhade was lying unconscious thanks to some powerful sedatives. She had glossed over the details about what happened before Trance and Dylan had arrived, only mentioning that he tried to attack her before realizing who she was, not how close he'd come to puncturing her throat.

"I'm sorry, Beka," Trance said, drawing the pilot from her thoughts, "But I have to analyze some results before Dylan gets here."

Beka nodded. "Yeah, right." As an afterthought, she added, "Can I do anything?"

"Actually, you can." Trance led her friend over to Rhade's bed. "We cleaned the injuries as we went, but as you can see, there's still a lot to do."

Beka just nodded silently. They'd changed him out of his torn and dirty clothes, and he currently wore a sheet pulled up to his navel. Large patches of skin on his upper torso, limbs, and head remained a dark red, while others had been cleaned out of necessity, affording Beka a good view of his astonishing injuries.

Trance directed her to an antiseptic solution and a pile of sterile cloths. "If you could help clean him up…?"

"Sure," Beka answered without thinking. Trance left and the pilot got to work, starting on his head.

The more she uncovered, the harder it was to imagine what he must have gone through - she was certain he had been severely beaten by the crew of the freighter, the chains had been enough evidence to come to that conclusion. She tried to focus on something else, but all she could think about was how, had it not been for her, none of this would have happened.

_-o-0-o-_

_Shouting could be heard coming from the_ Eureka Maru

_"You refuse to understand the basics, of course the philosophy seems ridiculous!" the male Nietzschean exclaimed._

_The_ Maru's_ captain answered back with equal intensity. "I don't give a damn about the basics, the idea doesn't work!" _

_She promptly turned on her heel and marched toward the ship's command area. Rhade followed. They'd been at this for over an hour, debating the concepts of Nietzschean culture. For the most part it had been pleasant: Beka had received a greater understanding of her crewmate's background, and Rhade had gained an outsider's perspective on his own beliefs._

_That was, until ten minutes ago._

_"It does!" he shouted to her back as they moved through the ship. "The concept is of such an infantile nature, a Nietzschean child could master it!"_

_They reached the command center, and Beka whirled on him. "Then why don't you go find one?" He was about to reply, but she didn't give him the chance. "I'm_ sorry _if your ideals are too complex for a_ kludge _to handle!"_

_"I never said --"_

_"But at least my species and culture evolved, they weren't manufactured in a lab. They weren't handed their so-called superiority on a platter!" _

_Rhade looked like he'd been slapped. When he spoke, his voice was deadly calm. "What did you say?" _

_Beka held her ground, refusing to back down. "Everything about you Nietzscheans is a lie, fake. No wonder no other species can figure you out." She shoved the flexi she'd been holding throughout their discussion-turned-sparring match back to his chest - he instinctively brought a hand up to grab it. "You need to be genetically engineered just to figure yourselves out! Those of us not terrified of you, we_ pity _you!"_

_At those last words, Rhade tensed. His eyes narrowed and flashed with anger, a low growl emanating from his throat. He tossed the forgotten flexi to the deck and turned sharply, heavy footfalls carrying him away from the command center, away from her. He needed to get out. _

_Beka let out the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding, shaking slightly. She made her way to the pilot chair and slumped down, trying to reign in her independent temper. She heard the footsteps slowly fade, then glanced at a computer screen and noted that he'd left the ship._

_"Damn," she muttered. She hadn't meant to blow up at him, and she certainly hadn't meant to insult his entire species, she'd only been trying to cover up her own ignorance of a culture she was reluctant to admit was a lot more complex than she ever imagined, than she ever gave it credit for. A culture she was surprised to find had appealed to her, in some ways if not others._

_She sighed._ I'll wait for both of us to cool down_, she mused._ And then I'll apologize

Famous last words.

_-o-0-o-_

Dylan's arrival to Med deck was enough to shake Beka from her thoughts.

"So, how's our patient?" He tried to sound casual, light, but he couldn't keep the grim tone from his voice.

Beka turned to respond, but saw that Trance had moved over, away from the patient in question, to fill him in. She turned back to Rhade, noting that she'd managed to clean the majority of the blood and grime off his upper body and head. She'd also dabbed at the matted hair surrounding his face, but it would have to wait until he could get up and take a shower.

She looked him over once more - on the one hand, he looked better, cleaner…less like the person who had attacked her in a dazed rage. However, his alarming injuries were a lot easier to see. It was one thing to know what was wrong, it was another thing to view it in vivid detail.

Letting out a breath, she dropped the cloth she'd been using into a disposal container to join the rest and headed over to the Captain and their acting Medical officer.

"That extensive?" Dylan asked, the disbelief - and awe - clearly present in his voice.

Trance nodded. "I'm afraid so. I've discovered evidence of some healing and repeated breaks…I think whoever did this to him wanted to make sure he suffered, and would be around to suffer for a long time."

Beka looked up - this was new information. She wasn't sure what was worse: the idea that Rhade had been intentionally left alive to continuously endure their beatings, or the look on Dylan's face - a mixture of anger, guilt, andpain for his officer.

It was a few moments before he digested the information and finally spoke. "Are you sure that wasn't the result of his Nietzschean nanobots?" It was obvious Dylan was clinging to threads, not wanting to believe a fellow human could be so sick.

The look on Trance's face, however, caught both of their attention. "That wouldn't have been possible," she replied, glancing at her unconscious patient with sympathy.

Beka's expression was one of confusion. "Why?"

Trance looked back at them. "I'm not sure exactly how they did it, likely through some type of interference, but his captors were able to neutralize all of the nanobots in Rhade's body."

There was silence. And then….

"_What!_" Dylan exploded, much more loudly than he'd intended. "You just told me the nanobots were helping him this very second."

She nodded. "And they are. But those nanobots were replicated from a sample we had here in Medical. I injected them into him about an hour ago." She took in a breath. "It would have been a long-shot for him to have survived _with _them, but as far as I can tell, Rhade hasn't had the aid of his nanobots in at least three weeks, possibly longer."

Dylan closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face. He couldn't believe the man was still alive, let alone that he'd managed to make the walk over here from the freighter, even with Beka's help. They shouldn't have let him, not that they had had much of a choice in the matter. They'd found an AG board in the cargo runner's small medical area, but the stubborn, deranged Nietzschean didn't even try to get on it. There was no way Beka could have got him on it herself, and any time he or Trance had attempted to get close, they faced being on the receiving end of Rhade's very confused and explosive rage.

Suddenly the three of them were pulled from their musings by the sound of gasping, followed by rapid, heavy breathing. Telemachus Rhade was awake.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	7. Crash Course in Reality

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimers.

Success! I bring you greetings from San Ignacio, Belize. And yay me, after a week in the field, I get sick with at least 2 separate illnesses - and no, none of them exotic, which is even worse - no memorable souvenirs, just a cold that is kicking my ass while I try to march up the nice, giant hill to our Mayan site at Minanha'. Slowly getting better, so I can hope. But enough about that. You've been waiting for this part (I hope) so here you go! This is the first thing I checked out, I haven't even looked at my e-mail yet. And I took a quick look at the fic listings - so many updates! It's going to be an expensive internet session, I'm sure! I should (barring any problems) be able to get the next chapter out next weekend.

I had less time to check read over this one, so once again, any and all mistakes are mine alone. And thank you all for the reviews! Made my day better.**

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**

**PART SIX - Crash Course in Reality**

"Beka?" he called quietly, barely able to move the air through his lungs. His eyes darted around the ceiling in a panic, breathing picking up, bringing him back to a state of hyperventilation.

They quickly made their way across the room. Beka arrived first and reached for one of his hands, grasping it firmly but gently, trying not to touch the bandages wrapped around his wrist, where the chains and dug into the skin. Dylan and Trance wound their way to the other side of the pallet, the latter checking the readings on the nearby machines.

"Rhade," Beka commanded. His darting eyes finally locked on hers and his breathing immediately slowed, but remained heavy. "Relax…."

And he did, bunched muscles slumping against the bed. His eyes became heavy - despite his sudden burst to consciousness, Rhade was suffering from the sedatives he'd been given, not to mention the trauma. The momentary adrenaline rush hadn't been enough to completely overcome the effects.

"Welcome back," Captain Hunt said warmly.

It took all of the Nietzschean's strength to nudge his head to the side as he looked for the owner of the voice. He pulled his hand from Beka's and reached it across himself - the right was too painful to move - to grip the other man's forearm, as if reassuring himself he was real. "Dylan?" he rasped through ragged breaths.

"That's right."

Rhade let both his arm and head drop back to the exam bed, his strength giving out. He closed his eyes. "H…how?"

"We, uh," Dylan looked around at Beka and Trance before settling back on his crewman, "We found where you'd been taken."

The patient opened his eyes again, only managing halfway, and slowly focussed on his captain. An attempted frown crossed his swollen features. "Taken?" he shuddered.

Dylan opened and closed his mouth, not knowing how to proceed. It was Beka who answered. "Uh, yeah, six weeks or so," her voice was oddly subdued. Rhade slowly turned to her, catching her gaze. "On Makhoiian Drift…."

There was a pause, then she saw his eyes widen momentarily and she knew that he was remembering. The only sound that could be heard in Medical was his heavy, laboured breathing as the muscles in Rhade's neck relaxed and his head rolled back on the small pillow. He lay there staring at the ceiling, focusing on nothing in particular, as the memories came flooding back.

-o-

"Finally!" Harper exclaimed as he gained access to the freighter's central computer. It had been slow going due to damages - from what he'd been told, the corpse of the pilot has been found slung over the main console, presumably flung there when he'd been attacked. That and the fact that this bucket'o bolts hadn't been maintained for several days. Archaic tugboats like this couldn't be treated that way and be expected to work properly. The medic team had removed the body earlier so he could get to work.

He spent the next several minutes downloading anything relevant he thought Dylan would want, when suddenly he came across personal crew files. He hesitated, then accessed the captain's file, and looked for the date of when Rhade first went missing.

_"Personal account of Captain Tycho Colis of the freighter_ Majalla's Heart_. I --"_

Harper scoffed and made a face. "'Captain's Personal Account?' Oh please, get with the times, why don't ya!" He watched a few seconds longer and then skipped ahead, realizing there was nothing but little tidbits on what they were hauling and who had shot at them that day.

He found what he was looking for several days later. He resumed playback.

_"__--On board three hours ago," _the sneering recording of Captain Colis was saying._ "He was an entire months' payload, but the whole crew agreed it was worth it. This is for you, Majalla, and everyone else back on Amayaúna - we'll make that Nietzschean bastard pay for his family's crimes, you can count on it."_

Harper stopped the playback and quickly downloaded the rest of the logs, wanting to be sure he got them all before the fragile connection he'd established finally gave out. Once he was done, he went in search of Rommie and the rest of the team, wanting to get recording analyzed as soon as possible.

-o-

Trance stood next to Dylan as she finished a quick follow up on her patient. He was still breathing heavily and fighting to keep his eyes open, and while she was certain the sedatives were at least partly responsible, she also suspected the pain he must be going through was also at fault. He seemed to be using the deliberate flow of air into and out of his lungs as a way to focus his mind on something else.

The golden alien gently placed a hand on his cheek and guided his head so that he was looking up at her. "I'm going to ask you a few questions now, alright?"

Rhade slowly nodded his head as much as his injuries would allow. Trance was glad to see that his returning memory hadn't caused a reversion to his earlier wild state. He seemed to be coping, at least for now.

"Good," she stated warmly. "Can you tell me where you are?"

There was a short pause, then, "Med deck." He stopped to take a few quick gulps of air. "_Andromeda_…_Ascendant_."

"And who am I?"

He coughed and winced at the pain before raising a shaking hand and gesturing in her general direction. "Trance…" he turned to the man beside her, "Dylan." He waved the hand back over and down beside him, grazing the First Officer's arm as he did so. He swallowed hard and finished, "Beka."

"Good," Trance smiled at him. "Now, who are you?" The joking expression fell from her face when he didn't respond right away.

Rhade moved to stare back at the ceiling, his expression devoid once more of expression, except for a puzzling hint of guilt. It was accompanied by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest.

"Come on," Trance prodded gently, "Answer the question."

He briefly closed his eyes, then managed to answer in his ragged voice, "Gah…Gaheris Rhade."

The proverbial pin dropped. The three of them looked to one another, expressions clearly stating their confusion and concern.

Dylan spoke first. "I think you hit your head there, buddy," the irony was not lost on any of them, "Your name is Telemachus, not Gaheris. Gaheris Rhade died over three-hundred years ago."

Rhade slowly shook his head and swallowed again, which caused another coughing fit. Trance placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, ever careful to stay clear of the mosaic of cuts and bruises that adorned it. Finally the fit subsided, leaving a combination of stabbing and aching pain in its wake, evidence of which they could clearly see on his face.

"Doesn't matter," he finally croaked out.

Beka looked over to the other two across from her and asked quietly, "Uh, am I missing…" she trailed off when Dylan, who hadn't bothered to look away from the man lying before them, held up a hand.

"Why doesn't it matter, _Telemachus_?" he stressed.

"They didn't…care. We…we're the same." Rhade was once again fighting to stay awake. "Didn't care…" he repeated, whispering more to himself than to any one of them.

"Who didn't care?" Dylan prodded. "The freighter crew?" The battered man nodded weakly. The Captain went on to his next question. "Why are you and Gaheris the same? You're both Nietzschean?"

He drew in a deep, shuddering breath, interrupting the rhythm he'd had going. They'd become so accustomed to it that all three _Andromeda_ crew members noticed it and tensed, relaxing only when it returned. "No," he breathed, then paused to think. "Rhade…."

Beka and Dylan both wore faces of confusion, not following where their friend was going. Trance, however, was beginning to understand. "You were both of the Rhade line," she stated gently.

Dylan briefly looked to Trance with interest, then turned back to the Nietzschean in time to see him nod in the affirmative. "Why does _that_ matter?" he asked after a few moments of silence - he wasn't skeptical, just puzzled. "What did they want?"

Rhade blinked several times, but not matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get his eyes to focus for longer than a few seconds. It was starting to make him feel sick. "G'heris Rhade…destroyed true Commonwealth. Three…hundred years 'go. Telem…chus…Rhade destroyed New Common…wealth…." It had been his longest string of words, and had taken most of his strength with it. He closed his eyes and tried to conserve what he had left.

Dylan just stared down at him, his expression an amalgamation of astonishment, disbelief, and disgust. "What? That's ridiculous! Gaheris didn't single-handedly take down the Commonwealth, and you sure as hell didn't do it either." He voice had risen, but he couldn't help it. Someone had justified the repeated torture of his senior officer because of events he had no control over? Because of an ancestor that diedthree-hundred years ago?

The officer in question gave his captain a drugged look. "Didn't matter…." They had to strain to hear him.

"Convenient scapegoat," Beka muttered softly, more to herself. "One family at the center of both conflicts, one face. To them it was reason enough."

"I don't care if the Vedran Empress herself condoned it, there's not justification for this!" Dylan snapped. He focused back on Rhade. "Did they ever mention where --"

"Dylan," Trance's voice was forceful but calm, grabbing his attention. "That's enough for now, he needs to rest if you want him to make a full recovery."

Dylan turned from her back to the man lying in the medical bed and sighed. She was right, he looked more worn out than when he'd first awoken, if that were possible. His eyes no longer remained open unless to answer one of their questions, and he thought Rhade's shallow breathing might have even begun to increase in frequency. It was a miracle his officer was alive, and he didn't want to tempt fate.

"Right," he acquiesced. "It's good to have you back, soldier. Hurry up and get well, we miss you up in Command."

Rhade sluggishly nodded his head, managing a quiet, mumbled, "Yessir."

With that, Dylan inclined his head, nodded to Beka and Trance, and briskly walked out of the room.

"Feel better, Telemachus," Beka said softly, then turned to go. She stopped when she felt a shaking hand grab her own, cringing internally at the weakness of the grip. She turned back and looked down where he had a hold of her. Scratches marred the skin, skin that ended abruptly in white gauze bandages that wound around the wrist, faded in places by crimson patchwork. Her gaze found his.

He swallowed. "Thank you…."

She gave him a hint of a sad smile. "Anytime."

Rhade let out a breath and dropped his hand back, limply, to the bed. Beka gave a final nod and walked out.

She met up with Dylan outside the Med bay. "You think we should have asked him what happened over there? You know, when --"

"I think we all have a pretty good idea what happened three days ago," he interrupted, his voice grim. He took another look back, then led the way to Command.

Beka hesitated a moment and stared back. She saw Trance inject something into her crewmate's good arm, then place a comforting hand on his forehead. Turning away, she let out a loud sigh, her voice coated with dejected sadness. "Yeah…."

_-o-0-o-_

_Red tears trickled down his arms, slowly reaching their final destination and dripping to the stained floor from his elbows. But he welcomed the sensation, it indicated his awareness. Awareness was survival, survival was life. Injuries would heal later._

_He slowly slid his slotted eyes to the far corner, managing to refrain from moving his head - whatever he could do to conserve his energy, he would. He once again took note of the small circular mounting, ensuring to himself for the millionth time that the video feed was offline. One of his captors had come in - escorted of course - and deactivated the surveillance several days ago. Why, Lieutenant Commander Rhade couldn't say, perhaps they were regaining a piece of their so-called humanity, maybe they figured he was too far gone to be any threat._

_But he was Nietzschean, and survival was life._

_He glanced down at his wrists, bound by two sets of chains. One, about two feet in length, linked one hand to the other, while a second linked the first to a metal support behind him, securing him to the wall._

_The second tether was far from new, quite obviously older than the first, and that was his ray of hope. His captors had been smart, testing the chains at regular intervals, ensuring the links were holding. And for his first week, before his own strength had had time to reach a curtained weakened level, they had kept him drugged just in case. When it might have been possible for him to manage against his bonds, they had ensured he couldn't. After many long days of beatings, done in shifts so they could continue on with their day jobs, they had stopped bothering with the tranquilizers, confident that he had been sufficiently weakened, and more than a little sadistically satisfied when he couldn't be shielded by the effects of the substances._

_Yes, they_ had _been smart._

_There were few things Telemachus Rhade was capable of focusing on after the weeks of pointless torture, for it truly was that - his captors had not stated a purpose, not demanded information, they simply continued to drag him, day after day, through the ship and to the room that had served as the beating chamber, while they trudged on with their tireless cargo runs. Yes, after the long weeks, he could hardly remember his own name…but he focused on the poem, meaningless words floating through his consciousness, keeping his brain from shutting down._

_As his conscious mind was kept awake, so too was his subconscious. And the subconscious was aware, it had been watching, listening. Through the jumbled verses of his childhood, these observations would bubble up to his conscious, enough to reawaken that part of his brain that was instinctive, that focused on survival. The part that made him Nietzschean._

_Among the clouded fragments of his mind he acknowledged the blinking light of the old surveillance camera had died some days ago. The guards had checked the restraints with lessening vigour, often only as a passing thought. He also knew the constant wear on the clasp of the chain holding him to the wall, as it was continuously worked day after day, was beginning to compromise its strength.__Despite the gradual decay, the chain hadn't been a factor even the day before - as the clasp had weakened, so had the man. True, his captors had provided medical assistance to the Nietzschean for no other purpose than to keep their prize alive, ensuring infection didn't spread and vital organs were kept just to the left of the line separating life from oblivion; occasionally the odd bone was mended, just enough. But for the most part the sadistic healing had been restricted to his vital areas, extremities were left to fend for themselves._

_This latest round, however, had been a puzzling exception. The injuries had taken their toll since his last trip to the make-shift medical area, nearly five days ago. The captors' designated medical officer - someone with experience that without a doubt went no further than an advance first-aid kit - had decided to be a little more aggressive, probably to ensure more hours of fun for his crewmates. The man had set and allowed the bones of the Nietzschean's right wrist, which had been in the process of healing incorrectly before being broken once again, to partially knit together._

_Rhade, had he been able to form coherent thought at the time, might have wondered if the partial healing of his weakened ulna and radius, both lined with small fractures, had been accidental or just careless thought by the "doctor," but in his current state it was beyond him. All he knew was that his right wrist and forearm felt stronger than they had in weeks, despite their far cry from perfection.And now, in his cell, all he was aware of was the pain of the clasp digging into the flesh as he used one set of chains against the other. In the struggle between the man and the metal, the man had been given an advantage._

_After what seemed like an eternity of agony, of the feel of blood trickling down his arm while at the same time providing a lubricant for the sharp metal, of the endless mantra of verses dangling like a lifeline to keep him conscious against the blinding pain, he heard a loud_ crack_. He felt the clasp give ever so slightly. It still held him, but it had been permanently damaged, it wouldn't take much to be free._

_He stopped his determined struggle then, and relaxed against the wall, gingerly disengaging the metal from his exposed and bleeding flesh. He welcomed the pooling of blood that served as a cushioning layer between the two. He would save his strength._

_Rhade allowed the words to consume his conscious mind once more. But he was aware. Awareness was survival, and survival was life._

_

* * *

_

**To Be Continued...**

And now, to read some updates before I retire to my hotel room (I must say, it's quite amusing when I can get the SciFi channel down here in Belize, but not in Canada).


	8. My Soul for Convenience

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

More Belizean greetings! I was back in town just long enough to check into my hotel, wash all the Vaca Plateau dirt (and believe me, it's A LOT), and then I'm right here getting the next part ready. I didn't even check the e-mail from my mother yet. See? You guys are my priority! Lol. Anyways, still sick with a cold, which makes the normally killer trek up to site every morning completely draining, but hey, I manage (my clothes can attest to that!). But I'm off to the coast for the rest of the weekend, hopefully some ocean air will clear it up (I hope...)

Once again, I can't say how much I appreciate all these great reviews. You guys are awesome. I'm glad I'm getting those characterizations down right, was worried about it. Hope you continue to enjoy the story! There's a lot more to go, I promise. Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

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**PART SEVEN - My Soul for Convenience**

"Amayaúna," Dylan muttered. The senior crew, minus Lieutenant Commander Rhade of course, were in his office, going over what they knew so far.

_"Amayaúna,"_ Andromeda repeated_. "A small planet in the Maura system. In the days of the Old Commonwealth, it was mainly an agricultural world. In the three-hundred years since the fall, it changed hands countless times among the Nietzschean prides."_

"Right." Everyone's attention turned to Captain Hunt. "They managed to drive the Mako pride off just before joining the New Commonwealth."

"Correct," Rommie affirmed. "However, since the civil wa…_dispute,_" she amended, catching her captain's pointed look, "Amayaúna has suffered numerous raids by several races in a short period of time, including the Nietzscheans."

"Come to take back their prize," Beka muttered, not trying to be heard.

"So what?" Harper asked, incredulous. "They blame Rhade? Okay, so the guy's annoying, and a Nietzschean…but come on!"

"He was a convenience," Trance said quietly, staring off to the side, away from the rest.

"Because he's a Nietzschean?" the engineer asked, skeptical.

"That," Trance replied, moving closer to her crewmates, "And the fact that he's a Rhade. He was at the very center of the conflict that is now tearing the New Commonwealth apart."

Everyone's attention was drawn by the sound of a fist slamming against the desk. Dylan pushed away from it in frustration and paced a short distance before turning back to them.

"You know, I really wish people would stop blaming him. He did nothing wrong!"

"You know that, we know that," Trance insisted, "And deep down, they knew that. But the desperate rarely look further than their own fears. It's become common knowledge that Gaheris Rhade played a part in the Nietzschean uprising three-hundred years ago." Had she not been able to mask her feelings as well as she could, they would have heard the regret in her voice. "The same uprising that cost Amayaúna its independence. Even if he wasn't responsible, the very fact that another Rhade was somehow linked to the separation of the New Commonwealth is enough to condemn Telemachus. The wrong conclusions jumped to by the wrong people."

As good as her masking abilities were, the enigma could not hide her oddly subdued tone as she added, "It doesn't help that he wears that same face, either."

"'Wrong conclusions…'" Dylan sighed. "And now we can't even try to lead them back to the right one."

"So what?" Beka demanded, finally speaking up. "They got as good as they deserved." Without waiting for a reaction, she turned on her heel and stomped out of the room.

There was a long silence. Finally, Harper looked around and gestured, "Uh, should we…."

"No," the captain replied in exasperation. "Let her go."

Another silence blanketed the room, and once again the spiky-haired engineer broke the tension, asking sheepishly, "What now?"

"Now," Dylan walked to his chair and sat down, "We continue. Andromeda, were you able to figure out how the crew of the _Majalla's Heart _got their hands on my officer?"

"_From what I've been able to deduce so far,"_ the AI began, _"They bought him from a Makaei bounty hunter several days after he first went missing."_

"You mean they actually went to all that trouble just to beat a Nietzschean traitor senseless?"

"Harper…" came Dylan's low warning.

"Oh, come on," he defended himself, hands up, flashing an apologetic look to indicate his words had been for emphasis only. "I was only saying…you know what I mean."

"Not necessarily," Rommie responded, drawing back their attention. Harper was about to protest, but refrained when he realized she was addressing his initial comment. "As you are aware Captain," she directed her comment to Dylan, "The Makaei don't take kindly to uninvited strangers. It's quite possible Commander Rhade was randomly picked up and Captain Colis just got luck--" she paused at the captain's warning, "…Just happened to come across him. Their logs indicate they were picking up supplies in a nearby system around the time he was taken."

Hunt's voice was grim. "At this point we don't know, and I don't think it really matters anymore. What matters is that those…men…are dead, and my officer is alive."

There was an uncomfortable pause. Then, "And I think we all have a pretty good idea why."

Looks of distaste were directed at Harper, but when they noted the complete lack of humour and the disturbed anxiety coming from the man, they let it go.

They didn't need any details from random diagnostics and analyses to tell them anything, it would only serve to unnervingly confirm what they already knew.

_-o-0-o-_

_Blood stained his bone blades, and for the first time in an eternity, it wasn't his._

_Rhade stepped over the bodies of the three guards, not recognizing the pain that attacked his senses, his body unused to its own weight, of moving solely on its own. The adrenaline pumped through his veins as he moved from the metal cage that had been his home for many weeks. Instincts led him from one crewmember to another as exits were subconsciously sought, new injuries acquired. But he survived. _

_It was no doubt the single-mindedness of his thoughts, ever-focused on that cursed litany, was what kept him as the victor. With no action premeditated, reaction was all he had; and he reacted faster and with greater efficiency when he wasn't hampered by thought or doubt._

_He turned a corner and heard a shout from further ahead. His wild eyes focussed and found a lone body clumsily reaching for a weapon he likely wasn't trained to use. Rhade could smell the scent of fear emanating from the human._

_The Nietzschean started toward the figure, as briskly as his mangled body would allow, but certainly in no hurry. It sounded like a disembodied voice, but it was his own, gruff and hoarse - not that he could even acknowledge it - as he chanted, low, "From the depths, I challenge thee…."_

_The human finally managed to release his small weapon and raise it to his former prisoner. He tried to command, to threaten, but only managed to stutter._

_"Up and up, through the sea," was all the scared man was met with._

_Shots were fired, but they were poorly aimed. The feral Nietzschean only needed to shift his shoulders from one side to the other, never ceasing his advance on his prey. "From the blanket, of despair…."_

_Either the weapon jammed, or it has been low on shots to begin with, but as Rhade neared him, the human gave up and tossed it hard and fast at his head, only to watch in terrified amazement as it was plucked from the air. As soon as he'd wrapped his hand around it, Rhade dropped his arm and threw it behind him, all in one fluid movement._

_The horrified human struck out with his arm, only to have it easily blocked and incapacitated; broken chains clinked together as the Nietzschean grabbed a hold of his wrist with one hand and delivered a glancing blow to the chest with the other. It was another mistake these people had overlooked - the length of the chain holding his two wrists allowed for considerable movement._

_"For nought a maiden…" he kept his grip on the wrist as the other reared back, across his own torso, as if to backhand the man, "Ever fair…." He struck out, but it was his bone blades that found their mark. The man's cry abruptly died._

_"Than death…" he let the man's dying body slump to the ground, his brain not fully registering what had happened, only the fact that mattered: he had survived the encounter._

_Rhade looked down briefly at his victim, his former captor, before turning and resuming his journey. "Just 'round the corner."_

_As he walked the mantra started up again, just as he heard running footsteps approaching from the left. "From the depths…."_

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

And now, to overdose on much-missed fic!

Oh, and one last note...a couple weeks in the jungle has sparked my music vid muse...upon returning, my next project is a Gaheris video. Thought I'd mention it in case anyone was intereted.


	9. Part Eight

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

And here we are with another Belizean update! I actually was going to post this last Sunday when I had a few hours back in town, but unfortunately the guy that does the virus checks on disks wasn't around and I couldn't use mine here without it, despite the fact that the last time I used it was in the same net cafe. Oh well. It's here now! Hope you all enjoy it, I personally love the reviews. You guys really make my weekends!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

**

* * *

PART EIGHT - Round Two**

Beka wandered the corridors, her initial anger diffusing into simple frustration. And guilt. Yes, they got him back, and yes, she understood that here had been reasons (and she used the term _oh-_so-loosely) for his imprisonment and subsequent torture that were beyond any of their faults, but still she felt responsible.

She had been reluctant to admit it the past month because it would have meant yet another loss, but Beka - upon the onset of relief after he had been found - had finally acknowledge her friendship with Rhade, even if it was only fledgling. The point of the matter was that she had let a friend down, was essentially the reason that friend had been in a position to be taken, and…well…it was frustrating!

She wasn't too surprised to find herself outside of Medical, and if she was honest with herself, it could very well have been the unconscious reason why she'd stormed out on the others. She wanted to reassure herself that he really was okay, at least physically - from what she'd seen, the mental aspect would likely need some work. And as selfish as it may have sounded, Beka hoped the reassurance would make the feelings of guilt go away.

As she wandered past the threshold, her eyes immediately caught sight of the closed door to her right, the entrance to the Andromeda's morgue. Beyond that partition, she knew, lay the crew of the _Majalla's Heart_.

_Good riddance,_ she heard her head exclaim. And her heart was inclined to agree. What they'd done to her crewmate, her friend…there wasn't a string of profanity long enough to brand them with. Beka shook those thoughts from her mind and moved further into the room, wanting to find the object of her worried thoughts.

They'd moved him, but he wasn't hard to point out. First off, there were only a couple other crewmembers acting as patients, and they were all up and about, probably just in for routine check-ups or something equally as mundane - what you would expect from a ship with a population of a small town. But what really helped to define his location was the equipment.

She could remember reading her "trashy" novels from ancient Earth. In a few overly-dramatic scenes there'd been someone hospitalized in severe condition while their family watched on. Often the authors had filled the pages with the family's horror at the sheer number of machines attached to the person, and the beeping and blinking of dozens of lights.

As Beka drew closer to a motionless Rhade, she began to empathize with those characters. He wasn't actually hooked up to too many machines, but in her opinion it was still too many. And they didn't beep, which was definitely a plus. But they blinked, a lot. Apparently, no matter what millennium you were in, blinking lights and banged-up patients went hand in hand.

She got closer to him, and noticed that he'd been cleaned up even more since she last left. It made him look ten times better. Unfortunately, considering what he'd been like only a few hours ago, ten times wasn't saying much. He was sleeping, though, but rather restlessly.

Another of the Andromeda's crew, one Beka could remember only in passing, was apparently functioning as his nurse.

"How is he?" she asked the woman - Asher, she thought her name was - as she came to a stop at the foot of the bed, arms crossed.

"Ma'am," Asher greeted, and Beka tried not to roll her eyes. "Compared to how he was when you first brought him in, he's improved quite a bit. Many of his smaller injures and breaks are almost healed."

The First Officer nodded, but didn't look up from the prone form. "And the larger ones?"

Asher sighed. "Those will take awhile yet, and there were, frankly, quite a few more."

"I noticed."

"Trance was able to reactivate many of his nanobots, and inject more into his system, but his body can only tolerate so many. They've begun to stabilize him. Right now all we can do it to keep him comfortable, try to up his nutrition and immune levels…." Beka noticed the sudden distaste in the medical officer's voice as she continued, "They didn't much care what happened to him, so long as he didn't die on them."

Beka did her best to keep her voice neutral as she answered, "Of course they didn't care, they spend a month torturing him."

Asher nodded slowly. "My honest opinion? Even despite being Nietzschean, it's a miracle he made it through. Most wouldn't have lasted as long."

Beka suppressed the urge to shudder, at both Asher's words and at the memory of her first encounter with said Nietzschean, back on the ship of death. "Yeah, well," she muttered to herself, "We'll see how his mind holds up."

Realizing Asher had heard her words, Beka turned to her and flashed a grin, trying to lighten the mood. "Not that there's much to lose, anyway."

Asher gave a light chuckle, more for her benefit. "Well, the few times he's woken up he's been lucid, as you saw for yourself the first time." The medical officer's tone turned sombre as she added, "He'll have more than his share of demons to work through, I'm sure, but we all have faith. He's strong, he's proved that already."

Beka just nodded, focusing back on her friend. It appeared as if he were already starting to "work things out" - she could see movement beneath his closed eyelids, his face tensed in a frown.

After a few seconds of silence, Asher turned back to her superior. "Well, my shift is actually over. Was there anything you required?"

"Uh, no," she replied, pulling herself from her thoughts. "Just checking up. You head on out, I'll probably do the same in a few minutes."

"Okay. I believe Trance will be back shortly, if you need anything. Good night, ma'am." Asher then turned and walked off to finish up her last-minute duties.

Beka watched her crewmate for a few minutes more, then decided it would probably be a good idea if she went and got some sleep - it had been a very eventful and draining day. She was about to leave when she heard a faint sound.

Turning back to Rhade, she strained her ears and heard the sound of mumbled, unintelligible words, and as she looked closer she could just make out the slight movements of his lips.

She moved to the head of the bed and tried to make out what he was saying, something obviously a part of his dream. It was too muffled to understand, but she thought she caught a word sounding an awful lot like "death."

It was then she realized the eye movements had become more rapid, his facial muscles bunched even more. He started moving in his sleep, and it was clear to Beka that his dream had turned into a nightmare.

Unsure of what to do, she placed a hesitant hand on his shoulder, being careful to avoid any of the injuries she could see, and those she couldn't. "Rhade," she called softly.

He remained in the throes of his nightmare, only after she called his name twice more did his eyes snap open with a sharp intake of air. His eyes darted around, confusion on his face, before he finally recognized where he was. He relaxed against his pillow.

"Bad dream?" Beka asked light-heartedly, removing her hand from his shoulder.

"Mmm…something like that," he replied, bringing a hand to massage his temples tiredly. She noticed the wince he attempted to conceal, but noted happily that he was speaking clearer and easier now.

Rhade's hand pause its ministrations as he looked at her in sleepy confusion. "What are you doing here?"

Beka, not prepared at all for the question, fumbled for an answer. "I was just, uh, I was going…" she gestured to the door and took a step back, as if to leave.

The corners of his mouth turned up ever so slowly - a welcome sign despite her embarrassment. "It was simply a question."

She hesitated, and then grinned despite herself. "Right." She stepped back up to the bed. "The crew's just worried about you."

"The crew."

"Yeah."

An uncomfortable silence followed, compelling the first officer to speak up. "So…feeling any better?"

He thought for a moment. "That is a relative question."

"Right."

"However," he continued, attempting to sit up. Beka moved to help him, but before she could he had collapsed back against the sheets, breathing hard, his face contorted in obvious pain. She started to say something, but he beat her once again. "Relatively speaking…much better."

Rhade looked over at her, catching her failed attempt to hide her amusement at his words. "Sorry," she responded, not even trying to sound serious. He rolled his eyes.

Another silence descended. Rhade looked away momentarily, and when he turned back, his expression had sobered. "Well, _I _am sorry."

She gave him a strange look. "For what?"

"For earlier, in the…on the ship."

"Rhade, it wasn't--"

"I was not in control. I almost hurt you, and I'm sorry." Seeing she was about to protest, he insisted. "Please Beka, do not fight me on this."

She sighed. "Alright. So long as you accept mine."

His confusion returned. She clarified. "For blowing up at you. Before you were taken."

He tried to brush it off. "I had forgotten all about it." It wasn't exactly true, but the last thing he wanted was for her to beat herself up over it.

"Still," she insisted, "If I wasn't so stubborn, this wouldn't have happened."

Rhade frowned, unknowingly bringing a hand to gingerly finger the bandages on the opposite wrist. "I do not want to hear that you have blamed yourself for this."

She didn't say anything. He sighed.

"What happened was a combination of chance and ill fortune. I'm certainly not happy it happened, but I never once blamed you, Beka." He was completely truthful this time.

"Yeah, well I don't blame you for…earlier. So it's only fair."

Rhade raised an eyebrow, but couldn't hold back the grin for long. She matched it.

"Very well," he replied with a yawn, closing his eyes. "Who am I to stand in the way of your self-admission of stubbornness."

She shot him a look just as he opened his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, get some rest, smartass. I'll come by and see you tomorrow." She turned to go.

Rhade's eyes followed her movements at that. "It's okay," he called after her, believing that she felt obligated. "You don't have --"

"I'll see you tomorrow," she asserted.

Rhade watched her leave, not sure what to think. Finally, he resigned himself to never figuring out that woman, and quickly drifted off to sleep.

Beka rounded the corner out of a Medical and found Trance leaning against the bulkhead. She stopped short - the golden girl had the ghost of a smile aimed at her.

"Trance?"

"Looks like you calmed down." Trance pushed away from the bulkhead and walked toward her friend.

Beka made a face and looked down. "I should, uh…I should probably go talk to Dylan."

Trance nodded. "Probably."

"Alright, I'll see you later." Beka started to walk away, but Trance just stood there, watching and waiting. The human woman stopped and turned back to her good-luck charm, concern filling her voice.

"Uh, Trance? He _is_ going to be okay, right?"

The enigma looked down for a moment to gather her thoughts, then looked up at her long-time friend, expression sombre. "His body, even some parts of his mind, have already begun to heal. But he can't do it all himself, he will need his friends."

As Beka listened to her friend's words, she thought she saw a momentary flash of…_something_…cross that golden face as it stared back at her, something she couldn't interpret. It was followed by Trance's next statement, "Some more than others."

Beka wasn't sure she wanted to know what that meant.

"Right," was all she could say in reply. Apparently the look of concern hadn't completely abated, however, because Trance continued.

"Rhade has been through a lot," she paused and looked away, adding in a lower tone, "Certainly more than he has ever known himself." When she looked up, she had yet another indefinable expression moulding her features. "But he has survived them all."

Beka was even more confused now, but tired to laugh off the strange vibes she was getting from Trance. "Well, it's good to know he keep's his Nietzschean word."

Trance flashed a not-so-convincing smile. "I guess so."

Neither woman spoke for a few tense moments. "Right," Beka broke the ice, "Well I'm gonna…" she gestured behind her, down the corridor.

"…Talk to Dylan," Trance finished for her, more of a statement than a suggestion.

Beka made the look again. "Right," she hissed out, clearly not enjoying the reminder.

Trance nodded. "Goodbye." Beka shook her head and headed off.

Trance stood in the corridor a few moments longer, eyes trained on the opposite bulkhead, but looking much further away than that. A million thoughts, possibilities, and actions - and consequences - both past and future, clouded her mind, being classified and categorized and reclassified, over and over again. But a past action, one that had led to a series of present consequences and posed a series of possible futures, all as equally uncertain in their likelihood and outcome, continued to invade her thoughts.

Sighing, she resigned herself to her patient waiting in Medical. _Worry about the man now,_ she told herself as she walked to her post, _Worry about my meddling in his destiny later._

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

Jade Rhade - If you look at my homepage link, you can see what I'm talking about. Don't have any Andromeda vids (yet - that's the next project, hopefully out sometime late June, due to my status as "not in the same country as my computer"), but I have come across several, including Rhade vids...unfortunately I don't remember where, but you can probably search for them easily enough.


	10. Interpretive Wandering

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

So I had a hectic week - seven of us in our particular unit were huddled together in the center of the 4x4m hole yesterday when a violent storm with torrential winds knocked three giant trees down around us (5 feet away at most) at thesame time. Luckily we were unharmed, but we had a nice cleanup today, then we hauled huge limestone boulders all day (and when I say huge, I mean larger than my torso), creating a hole about 7 feet deep. So very tired, but now I've got a few days to spend in Guatemala for some R&R, and I really wanted to get this out now before hitting the bed for what will be a very deep sleep. So here you are, the next part! Hope it's up to standard - and thanks for the reviews, they make my weekends as always.

Any and all mistakes are mine alone (or quite possibly "Quick Edit" - nothing quick about it, since I have to triple check everything, considering everytime I save it alters something I don't want altered - some serious issues with italics).

Contains some content from the episode _Home Fires_.

* * *

**PART NINE - Interpretive Wandering**

The Captain of the _Andromeda Ascendant _tossed the flexi to the desk with a sigh. He leaned his head back behind the chair he sat in, his eyes closing and his palms coming to rub the tension from his face.

After an awkward conversation with his First Officer about her conduct, while at the same time trying to be sympathetic, he had turned to the latest report for the team deciphering the _Majalla's Heart_. Apparently the ship's radioactive cargo had been destined to live out its half-lives on some backwater dumping planet. When the crew had…died…the unmonitored cargo had breached the containers and contaminated the hold. Only some brilliantly practical engineer's years-old design had kept the mess confined from the other decks.

And, for some strange reason, Dylan was having a real hard time trying to keep his focus on the report.

It wasn't that this particular detail was the furthest thing from his mind - it was - but his thoughts continued to wander. In the last year he had reconditioned himself to the meticulous and often dry reports that constantly graced his desk, but today it was as if he'd never dealt with them before in his life.

His mind kept returning to that moment, less than a day before, when he heard his tortured officer, a good man, refer to himself as Dylan's former First Officer - his former best friend - long-since a betrayer, and long-since dead. At first he thought he had been hallucinating; that even after all these years, he just expected the first name of a Rhade to be _Gaheris_.

When he realized, however, that Telemachus was serious in his identification of himself with his genetically identical ancestor, Captain Hunt knew there was a problem. And even though it had been partially explained to him, that memory had been the proverbially breaking of the dam that preceded the flow of memories from two years ago - a lifetime ago - that first brought the relationship between the Old Commonwealth's betrayer and his descendant, one of the saviours (Dylan hoped) of the New Commonwealth, to his attention.

_-o-0-o-_

_"I've heard of Nietzschean genetic reincarnation, I've just never seen a documented case."_

_Captain Dylan Hunt stood on his ship, staring at two very familiar faces - they weren't just familiar to him, but to each other. He compared the framed picture of himself and Gaheris Rhade, taken over three-hundred years ago, to the one with Telemachus Rhade, direct descendant of the former, with an unknown friend. Aside from the different demeanour of this much younger Rhade, they were virtually indistinguishable._

_The dark-skinned Nietzschean beside him looked over at the images. "It's quite rare, but it does happen," Tyr explained._

_Dylan wasn't sure he believed it. "What are the odds?" He gesticulated with the pictures. "My own First Officer reincarnated on a planet settled by_ my _fiancée?" He began to pace._

_Andromeda's voice filtered through the room._ "The chance of a specific human DNA combination reoccurring is approximately one in three-times-ten to the fifteenth power."

_"Telemachus Rhade isn't just any human. He's the product of sixteen centuries of selective breeding." The fellow Product sat down and began to analyze the picture - a human and a Nietzschean as true partners and friends? Those odds were even more remote, a fact attested to by the very nature of the man who's descendant now sparked their conversation._

_Dylan just wasn't buying it. "And the odds are_ still _in the trillions."_

_Tyr shrugged - who was he to argue? Sixteen centuries, and they were still awaiting the reincarnation of Drago Museveni. It was amazing the Rhade line could produce such a result in only a fraction of the time. "It's a big universe."_

_"Yeah, and a bigger coincidence." Dylan looked to the flexi of the Admiral of Tarazed. "You know, I don't trust coincidences, especially ones named_ Rhade_."_

_-o-0-o-_

Dylan sat upright once more, his tired eyes wandering to the framed picture of himself and that former friend, out of the way in a far corner. He wasn't sure whether it was for some psychological reason, or the need to constantly remind himself of the shifting balance of the universe, but he could not bring himself to completely remove it from sight.

Slowly, his mind tricked him into seeing the small changes, the slight differences that set the current officer from the former, so that the man beside him in that ages-old picture was the one currently lying in his Med deck.

"I did learn to trust you, didn't I?" he asked aloud.

Andromeda's hologram appeared before his desk. "Captain?" she inquired.

He shook his head. "Nothing, I'm just…talking to myself," he finished, sounding positively exhausted.

The hologram thought for a moment. "We have him back, Trance has said he'll be alright."

Dylan got up out of his chair, slowly pacing the room. "Oh, I don't doubt Trance's abilities," he replied, rubbing the back of his tensed neck.

The hologram frowned. "Then what is it?"

He let out an incredulous laugh. "Now why would you assume…" he stopped at Andromeda's raised eyebrow. Sighing in defeat, he tried to explain. "None of this is right. Not just what they did, but why they did it. And the state of the Commonwealth?" He shook his once more and sat on the edge of the desk.

Andromeda wasn't sure how to respond. She'd known her Captain for years - longer than any other Commanding Officer she'd had. But there were still times when she wasn't sure how to handle his emotions. She didn't like it, but she had to admit that the increasing personality separation meant her android avatar would likelybe of better help, but Rommie was back on the damaged cargo runner, looking for any additional information and helping Harper with repairs.

Finally, she offered, "You could go see him. The only one in Medical with him is Trance."

Dylan pondered the idea, but silently declined. His eyes locked back on the framed photo, and he walked over to pick it up. He stared at it intently. The man accompanying him had returned to that face which would forever be etched into his mind as the person who had been his greatest friend, greatest confidant, and his greatest disappointment. Even Tyr Anasazi couldn't hold a candle to Gaheris Rhade.

"I don't think I'm in the right frame of mind to do that right now."

Andromeda needn't have known him all these years to figure out what he was thinking. "He was wrong," she supplied. "Telemachus Rhade is nothing like his ancestor. You can make him realize that once again."

"Because I've been successful with Rhades before," he muttered sarcastically.

Andromeda's holographic eyes narrowed. "Why do I get the feeling you're no longer thinking about the present?"

He turned to her, still holding the frame. "Why don't you tell me?"

She ignored his petulant tone. "Telemachus did not betray the Commonwealth, but Gaheris did. It wasn't your fault."

He looked back down at the three-hundred year old picture. "Right."

From the AI's perspective, he did not sound convinced.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	11. Questionable Behavior

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Sadly, this shall be the last Belizean chapter, as I begin my long journey (and I mean long - 4 hour stop-over doesn't help) back to Canada. Sad, but happy at the same time, we managed to get some great Mayan finds in our last week, including a burial. I wasn't going to post this until I got back, but since I had this extra chapter, which I have dubbed the "Guatemalan Chapter" (that which was missed last week),I figured why not? I hope it doesn't disappoint.

As always, any and all mistakes are mine alone.**

* * *

**

**PART TEN - Questionable Behavior**

Harper was battling - both physically and verbally - with a stubborn AP tank control console when Beka appeared behind him in the engine room of the _Majalla's Heart_.

After a particular string of profanity, she commented, "A little harsh there, aren't we?"

Harper jumped a few feet back and stifled a yelp before turning to her. "Jeez, boss," he began, catching his breath. "Warn a guy, would ya?"

"Sorry," she said through grinning lips.

He rolled his eyes. "I'm sure." He turned back to the open circuitry and held his hand out behind him. "Hand me that, would ya?"

She was about to ask what, but then she noticed the isolated gadget, obviously one of her friend's own designs, a foot away from his reach. She crouched down beside him and handed it over.

"Thanks," he said, not turning her way. "I'm telling ya, this thing makes the _Maru _look like a top o' the line luxury cruiser."

"Well then," she replied, "Not much wrong with it, huh?"

He swung his head around and smirked. "_Sure_." Turning back to the circuits, he fiddled for a few more seconds, before exclaiming, "Finally!"

"Success?"

"Hah! I wish." He pushed to his feet, Beka following. "But at least now I can finally get to work on one of the _actual_ problems."

Beka nodded and looked around. "Good."

Harper looked at his best friend for a moment, not sure what to make of her. He suspected something was wrong, but he didn't expect that she would come out and say it voluntarily. But hey, the simplest solution….

"Something bothering you, boss?"

Her eyes roved around the decrepit box of metal, frowning. "I don't know, it's just…I mean, the hell those bastards put him through, and all the while they're running cargo! If I had just --"

"Hey, hey," he held up a hand, "Don't go all 'Blame Beka', here. I've heard the story over and over, and I still think you're nuts. It _wasn't_ your fault. Things just happen, you know?"

Beka sighed. "Yeah, that's what Rhade said."

The spiky-haired engineer perked up. "You see? Problem solved, issue dealt with." Even as he said it, both knew it probably wasn't going to be that easy.

There was an awkward pause as Harper's happiness faded, replaced by hesitant concern. "How, uh…how is he, by the way?"

Beka removed her gaze from the fascinating metal grating they stood on to look her long-time friend in the face. "Trance says he should be able to get better now that he has time to heal, but…."

"But what?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, something's just not right. I mean, you saw him when we brought him on board, right?"

He nodded, making a face. "Yeah, and it's not something I want to see again, especially from a Nietzschean."

"Well, I just saw him awhile ago, and he was acting like he just got knocked around a little in a Slip Fighter. Like the whole ordeal didn't happen."

"He _is_ a Nietzschean," Harper shot back, attempting to infuse some amusement into the conversation.

She chewed on her lower lip and made a face. "I don't think it works like that."

"Yeah, well, I'm sure he'll be fine. I mean, it's Rhade - nothing fazes him, right?"

"Maybe," she answered, disbelievingly.

Still trying for a joke, he added, "_Or_, maybe he was just _happy_ to see a familiar face." He waggled his eyebrows a little for emphasis, but she wasn't paying attention.

"Well he certainly had issues when he first woke up, with Dylan and Trance there too, so I doubt it."

Harper sighed inwardly, not wanting to bother explaining the missed meaning. Instead, he said simply, "I guess that's your answer to that, then."

Beka merely shrugged, her eyes once again wandering around the room.

"Maybe I'll go see him tomorrow," Harper suggested. Then, with a grin and a glint in his eye, he added, "And hey, if he's happy to see me, then we'll _know_ there's something wrong."

She shot him a big grin. "Come on," she put an arm around his shoulder and started pulling him to the door. "Let's get some food."

-o-

Rhade was resting his eyes - about the only thing he could do, lest the view of those same walls drive him insane - when Beka walked in late the next day.

He heard her footsteps - brisk and on a mission - until she stopped in the middle of the room, apparently hesitant at what she thought was a sleeping Nietzschean. He could make out her muffled query to one of the medical staff about whether he'd been asleep long.

The nurse's reply was unintelligible, even to his ears, but Rhade guessed that he answered negatively, because Beka replied with a "Thank you," which was followed by the sound of more footsteps, walking away this time.

"I'm awake," he called out, hoping it was loud enough. He'd been having trouble in that department, surprisingly enough.

Apparently it was, for when he finally managed to open his heavy eyelids, he saw her standing at the far end of Medical, looking at him. He noticed she carried something - a flexi, he guessed - in her hand.

"Hey," she responded brightly, heading back over. "I bring greetings from Command."

He attempted to sit up, and had better success than the day before. "I didn't know you were coming."

She shrugged. "Said I would."

He mirrored her shrug…then winced at the pain it caused. "I figured it was a pleasantry."

"Well," she began, and he was happy that she decided to ignore his display of discomfort - too many people had fawned over him today. "We Valentines keep our promises."

"Fair enough."

"Besides, I've spent my fair share of time in here, I know how boring it gets. You can never have too many visitors."

Under his breath, he muttered, "I don't know about that…."

She frowned. "Had many today, I take it?"

Beka watched as he let out a breath and held up a hand and began counting off on his fingers for emphasis. She was grateful to whoever had changed the bandages on his wrists, as they were no longer stained with crimson. For some reason, they had disturbed her more than she cared to admit.

"Harper, Rommie…Trance has been around most of the day…and several members of the junior crew, mostly acquaintances from Tarazed."

Beka nodded. "I suppose you'd like a break, then."

He was quick to reply. "Not at all. It was not really their presence that was the issue." He gave her a tired smile of assurance. "I'd much rather your company in any case."

She gave him a cautionary, questioning look. "What do you mean?"

He thought for a moment. "I believe the correct term would be 'eggshells'. They've been acting strange, uncharacteristic, as if I require special treatment in my current state. They asked how I was feeling every three minutes." A ghost of a grin washed over his face, "Harper was completely civil, almost pleasant."

"Strange indeed," Beka quipped.

"Yes. Trance in particular has been…distant. I'm not sure how to describe it."

"Yeah, well, she's pretty much beyond description most of the time."

"I suppose." He didn't sound convinced.

"Alright, so I'm not strange, right?" she asked jokingly.

"Well I don't know about that," he answered, watching as she gave him a mock-offended face. "But in this respect," he gestured to himself in the bed, "No. And I appreciate that."

"Anytime," she replied. Her gaze roved around the room before settling back on the Nietzschean. "So, uh, has Dylan been around?"

"Not that I am aware of," Rhade answered. "Unless I was asleep. Why?"

"Oh, no reason." In truth, however, Beka was slightly concerned. Their Captain had been acting "strange" as well over the last couple days.

She turned to him once again. "So, I have come, like I said, to rescue you from boredom." She held up the forgotten flexi. "Now, I don't know how well your brain is at the moment…."

Rhade sighed. _Maybe acting strange was a _good_ thing…._ "What is it?"

Beka's grin faded as she remembered what had happened nearly six weeks ago.

"Well," she began, a little awkwardly. "Remember the day you were taken, when I kinda…went off on you?" He opened his mouth to protest, so she quickly added, "I know, I know, don't worry, no blaming self, got it."

When he sat back and waited for her to continue, she did. "Anyway, do you remember _why_ we were arguing?" It took him a moment, but he finally nodded. "Yeah, well," she handed him the flexi - it was open to the part of the text that had sparked their verbal battle. "In the last little while I've gone over it, a few times. And I think I'm starting to see what you do."

He briefly scanned the flexi, then looked at her hopeful expression. A slow, small grin spread across his features as he gestured to the unoccupied chair a short distance away.

Relieved, Beka pulled the chair over and got comfortable.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

Galorin - Arch. as well? Where abouts are you doing your fieldwork? Glad you're enjoying the story!


	12. Contemplating Frustration

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

So I'm back home, I'm sick, and I miss Belize. But getting caught back up on wonderful fanfic is helping to cheer me up, so I thought I'd return the favor with a new chapter. I hope you all enjoy it.

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.**

* * *

**

**PART ELEVEN - Contemplating Frustration**

Telemachus Rhade was forced to spend the whole of the next week in Medical. If necessary he would have much rather have been confined to his own bed, but Trance was adamant. The crew had seen her focussed on her work before, but there was something different this time, almost a sense of personal obligation, like she felt responsible for his current predicament.

_It's ludicrous,_ he thought. There was absolutely no reason for her to act as she had been. At least with Beka he could understand why she had placed blame on herself, even though he disagreed completely.

After awhile, he dropped the issue, believing himself to be paranoid regarding the golden enigma's feelings of duty. He'd never been able to understand her before, why start trying now?

Rhade had been quite happy to learn, several days ago, that his legs were good enough to get by on (with help) for short periods of time, and he'd managed to escape the sterile deck for a good ten minutes every few hours. Beka had been there when he'd received the good news and had gone with him on his first bid of temporary freedom.

Of everyone, she had visited him by far the most. He had a feeling that her ideas of guilt, whether founded or not, were the subconscious reason why, as if she felt the need to somehow make it up to him. But she hadn't brought it up again, and it didn't seem to be truly bothering her too much as far as he could tell, and so he didn't mention it either.

Besides, he found he rather enjoyed her visits, more so than those of the others. Granted, they were, for the most part, no longer acting _strange_; he had the feeling Beka herself was also the cause for that, and he wasn't sure how to feel - happy they were no longer treating him like glass, or annoyed they'd needed to be told not to. Unlike the quick exchanges with the others, Beka's visits often involved actual conversation. They kept up her little "Nietzschean lessons," as she'd dubbed them, but they'd also been describing life on Tarazed before the split, and he had been happy to hear her comments on how different it was from other Prides she knew of.

He'd also managed to get a bit of information out of her about her own life before coming to Andromeda, which was well worth it. It wasn't much, nor was it anything beyond general stuff, but it was certainly a lot more than he knew before. Rhade truly felt they were beginning to develop a friendship, now that they had decided the hostilities they'd had during his first few months on board were just too time-consuming and exhausting to keep up.

He was certainly enjoying the friendship aspect a lot more.

Rhade was pulled from his thoughts as the First Officer herself walked in.

"Ready to go?" she asked brightly. She'd volunteered to take him back _home_.

"Completely." The relief was obvious in his voice. He pushed himself off the medical bed carefully, allowing a few extra seconds to pull his body up to its full height.

Beka, to her credit, let him stand on his own…not that she wasn't prepared to run forward if it looked like his face was interested in meeting the floor. "Then let's go." They walked out, Telemachus insisting on taking the lead.

After a few minutes of pleasantries, they continued to walk in silence. They conversed well enough with a concrete subject, but obviously they needed to work on the small talk.

Rhade pause a couple of times to catch his breath, each time politely refusing her help, determined to do it on his own. Beka was impressed - she didn't like taking help from anyone else either, but she had a feeling she would be a lot more open to the concept if she was as weak - relatively speaking - as he seemed to be. Not that she was going to tell _him _that.

They reached his quarters and she stepped inside. While she had glanced at the insides of his abode before, it had pretty much been done from the opposite side of the threshold while she briefly spoke to him, usually relaying an order or confirming plans for a mission of some sort.

Truly looking around for the first time, she was surprised at how relaxed it seemed. For some reason she had always imagined his quarters as being pristine and efficient - a place to store and to sleep. And while she admitted it was all very orderly, it was comfortable as well. There was some clutter, but not much; a shelf to the side held several real books, as well as a number of flexis. What looked like an old blanket was draped on the back of a chair. A few pictures were scattered about the room, as were the odd few plants. She wondered briefly how he had managed to acquire even the few personal possessions she saw, given his arrival on board the ship.

Rhade sighed and sank into a chair, exhaustion from the exertion evident in his features.

"Hey," she called out, slowly moving further into the room, "You still alive there?"

"I'm fine," he answered rather quickly. "Guess I just need more _rest._"

Beka thought she heard a hint of self-depreciating sarcasm in his voice. She wasn't too surprised, though. She'd been learning more and more what it was like to be Nietzschean, the mind-set…. He had never come right out and said it, but Beka knew that his culture and that of non-Tarazed Nietzscheans, while they did sound quite different, still held common roots. In his current condition, constantly tired, physically weak - it was a major blow to any Nietzschean. _Especially,_ she thought, _the _way_ in which he'd been reduced to this condition._

She sympathized with him. There were times she'd found herself in the same situation.

"You should rest, then," she told him. Beka may have sympathized with him, but she wasn't about to help make his condition worse - he did need rest.

"Shower first," he muttered. Beka had a feeling he was talking more to himself than to her.

Still, she asked, "Need any help?"

Rhade looked up at her, eyebrow raised. He had an amused look on his face. Realizing how she'd phrased her question, Beka rolled her eyes and sighed loudly.

"I think I'll be fine," he assured.

Figuring she was already caught in her own words, she thought she'd have some fun. In a sweet, almost disappointed voice, she said, "Okay, but be sure to call if you need _anything_." She turned and started for the door.

Rhade just shook his head. "I will."

Beka could hear the joking lit to his voice. Good. If all it took as a little verbal banter to get their resident brooder out of his current state of self-pity, even for a few seconds, then maybe there was hope for him yet.

She got to the door and turned back to him, silently noticing he'd sunk further into the chair. "So," she called to get his attention, continuing only when she saw his heavy gaze slide her way, "Nietzschean lessons tomorrow? I'm in Command today until well past your bedtime."

"Sure," he answered, either missing or choosing to ignore her light-hearted dig.

Beka nodded and was about to leave when he called out her name. She sighed. _So close this time…._ Turning back around, she waited for it.

"You don't have to humour me. If you have more important things to do, by all means. It will not bother me."

She sighed inwardly. _Every single time_. Shrugging, she responded lightly, "Nope, no other things. Unless you're getting bored of having me around, oh teacher of mine."

He shook his head. "I didn't say that."

She smiled, trying to cover up the slight irritation this conversation always brought on. "Good. You might find it strange, Rhade, but _this_ human does, on occasion, find all this Nietzschean stuff interesting…well, most of it…and probably would have before had anyone bothered to actually explain it."

"Very well," he responded. He looked and sounded as if he were stifling a yawn.

"I'll see you tomorrow," she told him, seeing him nod in agreement before turning back to the door, wondering if he could even make it to the bed, let alone have the energy for a shower.

Once she had left his room, her smile faded with the passing of the corridors. She wasn't sure why he felt the need to assure her she didn't need to "waste" her time visiting him, but she suspected it may have something to do with circumstance, both past and present.

If she was honest about it, her Nietzschean info sessions, at first, had been attended a little reluctantly. She had all but dared Rhade to show her how "different" Nietzscheans could be, both in regards to each other and to how others perceived them, and at that point her pride wouldn't let her back down from it when he'd accepted.

Beka, despite herself, was _just_ starting to look forward to those sessions, just starting to get that understanding Rhade claimed no humans outside of his homeworld appeared to have, when he'd been abducted. As the weeks dragged on without any trace, she found herself slowly reworking through the readings he'd given her, slowly expanding her view of Nietzschean culture. There were aspects that appealed to her, concepts she'd wished she'd known about in the past.

And then they'd found their crewmate. That's when he seemed to suspect her motives for seeking him out. And true, the first time she spoke to him about it in Medical she'd present it as a peace offering - and that's what it had been. It seemed as though he thought that was still what it was, and not plain old Valentine curiosity.

_Stubborn Nietzschean,_ Beka thought, suddenly finding herself just outside Command.

She shook the pointless thoughts from her mind - they weren't all that useful, anyway - and prepared for her shift. She'd only have to go through this mental frustration again the next time he brought the subject up.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	13. Standoff

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

And the next part. I've got a bit of time at the moment, so I'm hoping to get these things out a little faster. And once again, thanks so much to everyone who has reviewed so far, I really appreciate it and I'm glad you're enjoying it. I only hope I can keep it up!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

* * *

**PART TWELVE - Standoff**

"It got a little cramped, especially if my dad had his partners on board or whatever, but Rafe and I had our space."

Beka lounged on the couch as Rhade sat in a nearby chair, the same one he'd been in when Beka had left the previous day. If it weren't for the change of clothing, she would have thought he'd stayed there all night. Maybe he had.

They'd long since abandoned discussing philosophy, once the conversation had turned to Tarazed and, by extension, childhood. Rhade was rather pleased that Beka had decided to be more forthcoming, at least on some topics. Out of respect he had made no _direct _mention of mothers, or parents for that matter.

"Sounds like it was a good life," he commented.

"Says the man who grew up in a palace," she joked.

He pointed to her. "Not palace."

She rolled her eyes. "_Estate_, whatever."

"It got pretty crowded there, too. Politicians constantly in and out with their entourage, spontaneous dinner parties for no apparent reason, not to mention my own family. No wonder I spent most of my childhood in the gym."

Beka grinned. "At least it paid off."

Rhade shrugged…then winced at the pain of the movement. "Right," he groaned, his own amusement at the conversation forgotten as he remembered his current state.

There was an uncomfortable lull in the banter. Beka opened her mouth to break it when a chime alerted them to a visitor.

"Come," Rhade called, rather unenthusiastically.

The door slid open to reveal Trance, hands holding something behind her back. She moved into the room.

"Hey, Trance," Beka greeted.

"Beka," the other woman nodded. Then she turned her gaze on Rhade. "You were supposed to come to Medical earlier for your check-up."

"I forgot," he answered monotonously, not even trying to be convincing.

"That was the one condition to you coming back here so soon."

"Third."

Trance sighed.

"I've been there too long already," he explained. "Why would I want to go back?"

"Believe it or not I understand," the Medical officer told him. "But nonetheless, I need to make sure you're healing properly."

"I am."

"I'll be the judge of that. If Kylia won't come to the river…" she brought her hands back in front of her, brandishing a med-kit. It was Rhade's turn to sigh.

Beka fought off the smirk that threatened to come forth and stood up. "And that's my cue to leave. Telemachus, have a good day, and Trance?" She took a moment to look between the two of them. "Good luck!"

Without another word Beka quickly moved to the door, aiming to get out before her composure was lost.

Trance put her kit down and gathered her instruments. When she turned to Rhade, he simply sat where he was and looked up at her.

"I need you to stand up." He raised an eyebrow, and Trance shook her head in irritation. "You can stand, or you can go lay down on the bed."

Rhade hesitated a moment before giving up and pushing himself to his feet with, Trance took note, great help from the armrests.

She began circling him, scanning him with various instruments. He tried his best _not _to hide his annoyance.

"How have you been feeling?" she asked, exchanging her instrument for another.

"Fine."

"Have you been in any pain?"

As she rounded to his front, she caught the raised eyebrow and the exasperated look. She rephrased her question. "Any _more_ so than normal over the past few days?"

He moved his gaze to stare at the empty space ahead. "It's manageable."

Trance continued with her examination. "Any dizziness or fatigue?" Rhade gave a slight shrug of his shoulders, careful to avoid excessive movement this time. "Telemachus?"

He sighed, resigned. "Does it really surprise you?"

"No," she answered, putting down the last of her equipment. "Sit down."

He did as he was told, and she took a seat across from him.

"So what's the diagnosis? Am I going to live?"

"Funny," came her unamused voice. "The nanobots are doing their job, and your immune system is getting stronger."

"Like I said: fine."

Trance looked at him intensely, and he resisted the urge to look away at the scrutiny. "How are the nightmares?"

Rhade's eyes snapped up to meet her gaze. "What nightmares?"

Trance shot him a patient and knowing smile. "I was with you in Medical for a week, Rhade. Twice, sometimes three times a night? It's no wonder you've been tired."

"I never said I --"

"It's a natural reaction," Trance explained, cutting off his protest. "Rhade, you were captured for six weeks, tortured for no doubt most of that time." She watched as he sunk further into the chair, and this time he did look away. "The nightmares are a way for your mind to heal itself, as your body has been doing." She hesitated slightly, but pushed ahead. "That process would go faster if you confronted it, talked about the meanings behind them."

"They mean nothing." He looked back at her, all pretense gone. "And when did you become my counsellor?"

Trance ignored his question, instead focussing on his previous statement. "They do have meaning, to you." She didn't let him respond. "You are not the best liar, Telemachus. You take after your ancestor in that way, just as much as you share his features."

That earned her an inquisitive frown from him. She ignored it. "Talking _will _help."

He raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Very well. In that case, why don't _you_ talk to _me_."

"I don't follow."

"I've known you for many months now," he explained. "You've attended to my injuries before. What's so different this time?"

She looked confused. "Nothing…."

"Since I've been back you've been guarded. I know you're not the most open person, Trance," the sarcasm was clear in his voice, "But this is taking it to an extreme. And I'm the only one who has noticed, which leads me to believe it's only directed at me."

She looked at him in silence. She wasn't agreeing with him, but she wasn't denying it, either.

He leaned forward. "What is it that I should know?"

The golden alien looked down at her hands. "Things are happening that you can't possibly understand."

"Not unless you tell me." He dropped the challenging tone, and she could hear the exhaustion in his voice. "If it affects me I have a right to know."

She caught his gaze. "It doesn't. And it wouldn't matter if it did, it is an action that cannot be undone."

When he realized she wasn't going to elaborate, he shook his head. "_What_ is it?"

She was silent, her face full of resolve. He looked at her stonily. "If that's how you want it then, Trance Gemini."

"That's how it _must_ be."

"Then I guess we're done. I'll see you tomorrow for my check-up."

Trance sat for a moment longer, then stood and gathered her equipment. She walked to the door, then paused, half turning her head so she could just make him out in her peripheral vision. "About the nightmares," she saw him toss his head back in irritation, "If you won't talk to me, at least talk to someone."

And then she was gone.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	14. Shall We Play?

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimers.

Like I said, I'm attempting to get these new parts out faster. And lo and behold, this one is long as well. From this point on, I believe, the majority of them are a bit longer, for the most part, so that's (hopefully) a plus. As always, I would like to thank my reviewers for their kind words of support and their insightful observations - all will be explained in good time.

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

* * *

**PART THIRTEEN - Shall We Play?**

Nothing changed over the next few days, save for Rhade's improving condition. His injuries were healing well, scars and bruises fading fast, and he was able to get out and about the ship for progressively longer periods of time. If he had his way, he could be back and ready to assume his duties inside a week, instead of Captain Hunt's current decision to keep him away for another two to three. But he was working on that.

The situation with Trance, however, had remained at a standstill. She continuously refused to tell him whatever it was that had her acting so strange, and so he tried to avoid her. His examinations were as short and silent - and uncomfortable - as he could make them. Rhade suspected other crewmembers, including the Captain, were beginning to notice, but he didn't really care. Maybe it would be incentive for her to simply get over the issue and either tell him, or drop the behaviour. He wasn't even sure he wanted to know anymore, but they couldn't keep this up.

At the moment he sat in his quarters in front of a Go board, Dylan's Go board. Beka, sitting across from him, had borrowed it for a few hours. Rhade had never played before, and Beka could barely remember a few lessons from several years ago, but they were managing with the earlier help from _Andromeda_. According to the First Officer, he had been complaining too much of boredom.

"Are you gonna go anytime soon, or should I take a nap for a bit?"

Rhade looked up without raising his head, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. She certainly wasn't the most patient human. He looked back at the board.

After several more long seconds, he finally reached his arm out to place his piece, not quite reaching the intended spot before he heard her voice again.

"So explain to me this 'difference of opinion' you Tarazed-ians have on love."

He hesitated for only a millisecond before dropping the small black piece onto its intended place. He grinned inwardly. She had not so subtly been trying to distract him every so often for the last couple games.

He leaned back in his chair. "What, exactly, do you want to know?"

She shrugged nonchalantly and stared at the board, trying to figure out where her own game piece should be placed. "I dunno…what's your take on it?"

He decided to play the game by her rules. He put on his most pensive face, as if pondering the question deeply, and waited for her to make her move.

"Like most Nietzscheans, I suppose," he began as he saw her focus on a particular grid, noticing the small smirk she wore at his words, as if it didn't surprise her. As she moved to place the white piece down, he clarified, "I hope it will one day find me."

That caught Beka off-guard. She dropped her piece high above the board, causing it to bump into two others. Rhade hid his smile as she quickly arranged the pieces back into their initial configuration.

Then she looked up at him. He was staring at the board as if nothing had happened, planning his next move. She frowned.

"Uh, that's not like most Nietzscheans."

He raised an eyebrow. "And you know this because…?"

She fumbled a few times before responding, lamely, "Well it's…uh, I have it on good authority that Nie--"

"_Who's_ authority?"

She sighed audibly at both the act and obviousness of the interruption - he knew exactly who she was talking about. She choose not to answer. Instead, she finished her thought. "That Nietzscheans believe love is just some weird bio-trick thing."

He placed his piece and looked up. "That is one view, but not all share it, especially among those of my homeworld."

"Nietzschean love on Tarazed?" She placed her piece quickly, barely taking time to look at the board.

His gaze moved back down to the game. "It's more complicated than that. I have mentioned before that my culture has evolved closely alongside that of the other species on the planet, namely humans?" He saw her nod in his peripheral vision. "From that exposure we have gained a better understanding of our own beliefs.

"Many of my Pride hold that, yes, love is indeed a biologically-induced emotion," he saw her smirk once again, "However, we accept that it is not found in every relationship. This gives love a special meaning. We have come to understand and even desire this situation. Yes, our goals of reproduction can be met, and even a contented life can be achieved, without love. But I have come to believe that a life _with_ love could be much more fulfilling." He reached out and placed the little black circle next to its companion.

Beka was staring at him. "Wow," she stated, surprise evident in her voice. "And everyone, the Nietzscheans, on Tarazed…they all believe that?" She leaned over and played her turn.

"Certainly not everyone," he said, after a brief hesitation. "But many believe in this concept to varying degrees, some more and some less. I have known of some who will not even consider a marriage proposal unless a lengthy courtship has taken place." He looked up and grinned, "Strange for a Nietzschean, indeed."

She thought for a moment, but couldn't resist the question as it formed on her lips. "So where are you on the love spectrum? The waiting end? Or the 'whatever' end?"

He rested his chin on his knuckles and focussed on the board, not looking up as he answered, "Regretfully, I did not wait."

"Ah, so you're…" she trailed off, only now catching the meaning behind his words. Her eyes went wide. "You're _married_!"

He raised his eyes to hers, still not moving. "It's your turn."

It took her a second to process his words, then she looked down. She had completely missed him placing his last piece. Shaking her head a little to clear her thoughts, she located the latest addition and attempted to focus on the game.

"Was."

Beka looked up. "What?"

"I _was_ married."

"So how come I didn't know about this?" Her tone was almost accusatory. Almost.

He shrugged, as if it were not big deal. "You never asked."

She sighed and shook her head. "So…what happened? With your wife, I mean." Suddenly, a thought occurred to her. "There is only one, right?"

Rhade gave a small, amused smile. "_Was_ one, yes." He turned a little more serious. "I had heard she died in childbirth not long before I joined the crew. The child survived; a girl, as I recall."

Beka's eyes shot up, disbelief at his wording and his near-carefree demeanour. He clarified, "We had not been married for several years before. She remarried."

Beka looked away, feeling, oddly, a little relieved. "Oh." Absentmindedly, she placed a game piece on the board. "So…can that happen? With Nietzscheans, I mean."

"What?"

"Divorce."

"Ah." He leaned back, keeping his eyes on the game, looking for an opening. "It does happen, but it is rare. I have the feeling it's less of a taboo on my planet, but we still tend to keep it quiet, or as quiet as it can be, for obvious reasons."

"So why did you…" she left the thought hanging.

"We both decided it would be for the best. She wished to persue…_other_ interests."

"The new husband?"

"I suppose it could be seen that way."

Beka frowned. "I'm sorry."

Rhade shook his head. "Don't be. We wed when we were both young, at the insistence of our parents. The match was a glorified political union, not what either of us truly wanted."

"But you went through with it?"

He sighed. "It's more complicated than that. It was at a time when Tarazed's government was in decline. Emana's pride was considering leaving the planet, possibly even attempting to return to the Mako."

Beka's face must have been full of confusion, because he attempted an explanation. "Her family originated from Mako Pride. One of her ancestors had been among the wives of Gaheris Rhade, and those loyal to her reluctantly agreed to come to Tarazed at its inception. However, they have always maintained a more isolated view, attempting to hold on to what they called the 'traditional' Nietzschean way."

"No marrying for love?" Beka asked, unable to conceal the amusement from her voice.

He grinned. "Not especially, no. However I must admit Emana was different from most of her family, more willing to see the universe as we did."

"So…why you?"

Rhade raised an eyebrow, and she shook her head. "Oh please. It's just a question, not an insult."

He gave her a small grin. "As I said, it was a political marriage. My father, as one of the more established diplomats and a leader among my people, felt that the connection would sway Emana's family to remain on Tarazed. If they had left, it could have created a great instability among the population, as well as posing the obvious security risk. The decision was for the good of the planet. And while I wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea, I didn't doubt my family's decision.

"Besides," he reached down, finally choosing his next target, "It worked."

"Girl's family stayed?"

He nodded. "And in the last few years they have increased the productivity of the planet's economy, benefiting everyone. A small price to pay."

Beka whistled and stared at the board. "Still…you're braver than I am."

"It was not as if we were complete strangers. I grew up with Emana, we had been friends for a long time. I suppose it wasn't the best marriage, but it could have been worse."

"But it was okay when she up and left you for a better life?" He detected a hint of repressed anger in her voice but decided not to comment, having a good idea of its intended recipient and knowing that recipient was neither himself nor his former wife.

"It was my idea."

That got her attention. Beka quickly played her piece and turned her gaze to him. "_Your_ idea," she repeated.

He nodded. "While we did grow to care for one another, we always remained friends, nothing truly more. I wanted more with my life, and I knew she deserved better. I knew even before our marriage she had been in love with someone else, even if she never would have admitted that emotion. After nearly nine years, when the political atmosphere died down, we both agreed it would be for the best."

"And I'm guessing you never found anyone else."

"At the time, I had other, more important factors in my life. It was at that time, also, when the attacks by the Kalderans began, and my duty was to my planet. And now…" his voice trailed off, and Beka thought she understood. Now, he wasn't in the best position to look for a potential new wife, especially not another Nietzschean who shared his views.

Both were silent for a few moments, but Beka couldn't keep from asking that one question. "So, nine years, huh? Any kids?" She grinned, figuring there had to be a whole bunch of little Rhades running around Tarazed.

But just then she saw his expression change momentarily, and she wasn't able to decipher it. When he answered, his voice had sobered. "No, I have no children." He reached out and placed a black marker on the grid.

Beka figured the sudden change in attitude had something to do with being Nietzschean. After all, no matter what he said about the differences among his people, one of the fundamental goals of his species was children. Maybe it was some sort of bruise to his ego that in nine years he hadn't had any. She supposed it could have had something to do with this Emana, he did say she had died in childbirth. She knew from experience that all female Nietzscheans weren't fated to have children. Considering the direction of her thoughts and his sudden change in demeanour, however, she thought it best not to ask. Instead, she took her turn.

There was an uncomfortable silence as Rhade stared at the board. He heard his friend squirm, and decided it was his turn for questions. "What about you, Beka?" he began with a new smile, reaching down and dropping a piece to the board, "What's your opinion on love?"

She was caught off-guard momentarily. She regained her composure and reached out to the board. "Well, I'm no the best person to ask. Does it exist? I'd say yes. Is that necessarily a good thing? That's another question."

Her eyes had been wandering the room as she spoke, finally coming to rest on her companion. She was a little surprised to see him staring back at her, and even more surprised by the large grin he wore. "What?"

Rhade's grin grew slightly and his eyes darted down quickly, then back up at her. Beka looked at the board. She'd left an obvious hole with her last move, and he could easily win on this turn.

She sighed loudly in defeat. "Go ahead, do it."

He had a self-satisfied look to him as he placed his black piece, making his victory complete.

Beka shook her head. "That's not fair."

"How's that?"

"You distracted me."

"As I recall, you started this conversation."

"What are we, four?"

"You tell me."

Beka rolled her eyes and stood up to stretch. "Winner cleans up." Rhade nodded in amusement and began gathering the pieces.

She began wandering about the room, coming to rest in front of the bookshelf. Rhade had managed to collect several works in actual, printed form, obviously produced solely for the purpose of collecting. As she scanned the titles, she called out, "So which of those is next on the agenda?"

Rhade glanced over to see what she was talking about, then turned back to his task. "I suppose Tiberius Scipio's _The Immorality of Morality_ would be appropriate. He was a later philosopher, a Nietzschean. It could provide a good insight of a more modern Nietzschean's view on both Nietzsche's and Drago's philosophy."

"Hmm…" Beka found the volume and pulled it from the spot on the shelf. The cover showed a Nietzschean male with striking features. She leafed idly through the book as Rhade finished putting away the game. She doubted they'd start on it today, she was too tired for anything heady right now, but the title at least sounded interesting.

Out of the corner of her eye, Beka saw Rhade slowly push to his feet. Despite his claims, she could see the large amount of effort required for him to do such a simple task, and as he turned around, she noted he was still favouring his right side.

She went to close the book when it fell open to a specific page, somewhere in the latter half. A thin, metal bookmark held its place. As she looked closer, she could see an inscription, a poem.

"What's this?" she asked as she turned in his direction, picking the maker up to get a closer look. Aloud, she recited, "From the Depths, I Challenge --"

Suddenly he was beside her, and she gave a slight gasp of surprise as the marker was rather forcibly taken from her hand. He might have been injured, but he could still be fast as lightning if he wanted to.

"It's nothing," he insisted through gritted teeth, his expression intense. If she hadn't known him better, she might have been a little afraid. Despite their friendship, in the back of her mind she might even have been. His attitude was a far cry from what it had been only moments before.

"Sorry," Beka said, a little apprehensively. She extended the open book toward him. "Do you want me to put it --"

"Just drop it," he interrupted.

She doubted he was referring to the forgotten book, but still she said, "Alright," and turned the tome over on the shelf so that the spot wouldn't be lost. Then she turned to him. "You okay?"

He didn't look her in the eyes. "Fine."

Her eyebrows met her hairline. "O-kay…." He didn't say anything more, so she started walking toward the table where the Go board sat. "Dylan probably wants this back." Although in truth she doubted the Captain even knew it was gone. She picked it up and started for the door.

"_Bye_," she called back, sarcasm evident.

"Beka."

She stopped and turned to him. She noted the calmer expression that had washed over his features, the slightly guilty look.

"I'm sorry."

It was a lame-assed apology, and she suspected he knew that. Still, against her better judgement, she considered accepting it. In a slightly warmer, but not too warm, voice, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He locked eyes with her for a moment from the other side of the room, then cast his gaze downward to the floor and shook his head slightly. Sighing, he answered, "I don't know."

He looked tired. Not just from the exertion, or from a long day, but he appeared mentally exhausted. Her features softened a little more. "Are you going to be alright?" she asked, a little more deeply.

He brought a hand to massage the back of his neck and looked back at her. The apologetic look was still there. Giving her an unconvincing upturn of his lips, he affirmed, "I'll be fine." As an afterthought, he added, "Thank you."

Taking in his appearance once more, Beka almost forgot the incident of a few minutes ago. Almost. She felt somewhat obligated to help him, but she realized that the best thing for both of them right now would probably be for her to leave him be. And she suspected it was what he wanted, anyway. Maybe he'd be more inclined to tell her what exactly happened tomorrow, when they were both more rested.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow," she said softly. "Get some sleep." Seeing him nod at her suggestion, she turned and left.

Rhade watched her go and sighed, cursing himself for his rather explosive reaction. Something in him had snapped upon hearing that damned opening verse. He looked down at the metal object in his hand, and, without thought, tossed it unceremoniously into a far corner of the bookshelf, out of sight.

He sighed again and moved toward the washroom adjacent to his sleeping area. Upon entering, he turned to look at himself in the mirror.

He wasn't sure just who was staring back.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	15. Halting the Breakdown

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I can't thank you guys enough for the wonderful reviews, they let me know what I'm doing right, but most importantly what I'm doing wrong!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

**

* * *

PART FOURTEEN - Halting the Breakdown**

A compromise, that's what Rhade had managed with Dylan. After another week, the Captain was still reluctant to let his officer anywhere near Command, but he had to admit that the Nietzschean's injuries were coming along better than he had expected. In fact, he believed himself a little jealous. But still, he could see the fatigue that took the man too easily, and had permitted him no more than two hours a day on duty.

That was three days ago. Rhade was currently at his station, more bored than he thought possible. It was as if Dylan had intentionally scheduled him for the time of day when there was absolutely nothing important to do - and he probably had, the way he had been thinking.

And so there he stood, punching in mundane commands and scanning various, tedious read-outs. He still had seventy minutes to go, and if it were to pass like this, then perhaps his room _was_ better - at least there he could be bored out of his mindof his own volition.

A few minutes passed, then he heard the doors behind him swish open. He looked back and saw the First Office walk in with purpose. She headed directly for the pilot station.

"Listen up, people," she announced to the skeleton crew in Command, "We're headed for the Tobin system to pick up some spare parts. Just a quick jump." She arrived at the console and started moving the ship toward the nearest slip point.

Rhade quietly left his station and walked over. "Beka." She turned to him. "Let me pilot."

She shot him a disbelieving grin. "I don't think so."

"Come on. Like you said, it's just a short jump away." She just stared at him, not budging an inch. "Look, I'm fine. It's not a difficult run, and you know my reflexes are a hell of a lot better than they were even two days ago." It was true, over the last several days she had helped him in the gym to slowly work on his physical strength and stamina - even with severe injury, the Nietzschean body held up. "And only slightly lesser than your own." And flattery will get you anywhere.

"No."

Almost.

"Why not?" he was beginning to sound petulant, and that annoyed him further, almost as much as her refusal.

"Because Dylan didn't say you could."

"He also didn't specify that I could _not_." Beka shook her head, and he switched tactics. "What would happen if you couldn't pilot the ship in an emergency?"

"Never going to happen."

He sighed. "What if you were on the _Maru_, then? Would you prefer I was rusty and out of practice?" She looked forward, but he could see the hesitation. "You know I can do this, Beka."

Finally, she relented and backed away from the controls. "Fine, but you get to explain this to Dylan."

She started past him just as he reached out a hand and grabbed her arm gently. He looked her in the eyes and said, sincerely, "Thank you."

She gave him an awkward grin. "Just don't crash the ship."

"Agreed."

He moved to the controls and readied the _Andromeda_ for slipstream, looking and feeling infinitely better than he had just minutes before.

-o-

They were nearing the end of the jump. It had started out smoothly enough, Rhade piloting as if no time had elapsed. But slowly those in Command had begun to notice his waning concentration, the ride gradually becoming more bumpy. It wasn't necessarily a danger to the ship, but still, it wasn't what they were used to.

Beka was growing a little concerned, and looked over at her crewmate. She could tell he was using all his strength and focus to ride the coiling stream. He was looking tired, jaw clenched shut in concentration. It was obvious his reflexes were beginning to suffer.

The First Officer let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding as Rhade pulled them back into normal space. She walked over to him, noting how he leaned against the console. He was breathing heavily and blinking rapidly, as if to clear his head. She cursed herself for giving in to his plea.

Quietly, she asked, "You okay?"

Before he could respond, they heard the doors to Command opening, followed by Dylan's voice. "Well Beka, not the best --"

He stopped short when he saw Rhade at the pilot's station. He looked back and forth between he and Beka a few times. Then, not yelling but sounding none to happy either, asked, "What the hell is going on? Beka?"

Beka fumbled for an explanation, but Rhade spoke first, trying to straighten up. "I convinced her to let me take the jump, Captain."

Dylan scoffed, slowly walking toward them. "Oh really?"

"Look Dylan," Beka began. "I know --"

"Save it, Beka. And you." He turned back to Rhade. "LIGHT duty. Does that mean any -- Rhade!"

Beka turned just in time to see her friend sway, his legs beginning to buckle. She reached out and grabbed him, preventing him from crashing to the deck. He was able to hold up most of his own weight, but leaned momentarily on her to regain his composure, his equilibrium.

Dylan had rushed forward to help, catching him on the other side to help him stand back up straight. But Rhade quickly shrugged away from both of them.

"I'm fine," he nearly shouted, resentment evident in his tone. He turned around and marched for the exit, almost managing a straight line, and ignoring the stares from the other few crewmembers in Command.

Beka and Dylan watched his back as he moved through the doors and out of sight. Then Beka turned to her Captain rather timidly.

"Uh, I can go try to --"

"No," Dylan said forcefully. He looked at her, and she could see the definitely disappointed look there. "You have Command." He didn't wait for her reply before slowly walking out.

-o-

Harper stared down at the flexi in his hand as he made his way to Command, checking to be sure he had all the parts listed for the Tobin supply run. He rounded a corner and literally ran into Rhade.

Harper started to cringe, quickly calling out, "I'm sorry, I…" he trailed off as he got a good look at the Nietzschean. The annoyed glare, the hollow threats - non were forthcoming.

Instead, Rhade looked like he was having trouble focussing. "Rhade? You okay there, buddy?" the engineer asked in concern.

"Yeah," the other man affirmed quietly. He then put up an arm to the corridor wall, using it as a brace to keep himself upright as he leaned suddenly into it.

"Whoa, whoa," Harper cautioned as he reached out and grabbed Rhade's other shoulder. He was mildly surprised when the Nietzschean simply uttered a word of thanks. "Uh, anytime. What's wrong?"

"Tired," Rhade muttered through a deep breath.

Harper looked around the corridor junction. "Uh, right…." Just then, he spotted a familiar figure walking their way.

"Mr. Harper," Dylan called before reaching the two - he didn't look like the happiest Captain in the Known Worlds.

"Boss," Harper greeted, then gestured to Rhade, who'd managed to pull himself away from the bulkhead. "He's kinda, uh…."

"I know," Dylan replied. He gestured to the flexi in the engineer's hand. "Is that for me?"

Harper was caught off-guard by the question. He held the flexi up. "Well yeah, but --"

"Good." Dylan took it from him, then finally turned his attention to Rhade, who was looking away. "Take him to Med deck."

Harper nodded just as Rhade turned to Dylan. "Captain --"

"_Go _to Med deck," he repeated forcefully. "That's an order, _Commander_." He didn't wait for Rhade's acquiesce before marching away.

Harper wasn't sure what was going on, but he thought it best to just do as the angry Captain told him. "Come on," he said almost timidly to the Nietzschean, who was glaring daggers at Hunt's back.

It took Rhade a few seconds to turn away, and when he did he reluctantly went with the engineer. He was a soldier, and he would follow orders.

-o-

Rhade stretched out his bed, glad to be back in his own quarters. He had spent the last couple of awkward hours with Trance, until she was satisfied that he was only suffering from fatigue due to over-exertion. He'd been allowed to leave, but not before she'd left the lasting impression that he was _not_ to go anywhere near _Andromeda's_ flight controls (he'd been too tired to give in to the urge to make a smartass comment about the _Maru_) for at least another week, no matter how strong he felt.

_Not that it will matter,_ he thought to himself. After today, he doubted he'd be allowed anywhere near Command for a _very _long time.

He sank into the comfort of his bed, laying atop the neat covers and fully-clothed - he hadn't even removed his boots - when someone called on his door.

Rhade sighed reluctantly and sat up. He called for the AI to open the door, thinking it might be Beka checking up on him. As much as he wouldn't mind seeing her - he did want to apologize for getting her into trouble - at the moment he wasn't really in the mood for deep discussion, or any kind of company for that matter.

But it didn't matter, because his visitor was most certainly not the female First Officer.

He quickly stood up as Dylan entered the room, figuring it would do well to stick to formality - it usually put the Captain in a better mood.

"Sir," he addressed respectfully. He wasn't angry at the Captain, and he hadn't been earlier, either. He'd been more angry with himself and his state of weakness, and Dylan had simply served as a reminder at the time.

The Captain seemed to have calmed down as well. Gently, he said, "At ease." Rhade relaxed. Dylan gestured to the living area, and they sat down across from one another.

"Trance tells me it was nothing serious, you'll be fine," Dylan commented, breaking the silence that had descended.

Rhade nodded.

"She also tells me that if that slipstream jump had been any longer, there could have been some problems."

"Captain," he spoke, "I would never knowingly put the ship in danger."

"And what about yourself?"

"Sir?"

Dylan scoffed. "It's not _Andromeda_ I'm worried about, Telemachus. Yes, I'd prefer not to have to make any more slipstream-induced repairs on the hull anytime soon, but Beka said she was close enough that if anything happened she could have taken over without too much trouble."

He leaned forward. "You could have aggravated injuries or strained yourself too much and blacked out, none of which would have been particularly good for _you_."

"I thought I was ready," Rhade replied quietly.

Dylan nodded. "I'm sure you did. But that decision isn't up to you."

The Nietzschean sighed and looked away. "Trance."

"In part, yes," Dylan answered. "You need to understand that healing takes time, no matter how engineered you are or how many nanobots are streaming through your system. Just give it time."

"Too much time," the other man muttered, not realizing he'd said it aloud.

"What was that?" he could see his officer getting antsy, rapidly jostling his knee.

Rhade looked at Dylan and, against his better judgement, launched into a mini-tirade. "Too long! I was gone for six weeks, and now I have to be out for how many more? I need to work harder to get my strength up. I cannot be incapacitated any longer."

"You're hardly incapacitated," Dylan observed, cutting of the Nietzschean's rant.

Rhade's eyes bored into the Captain's, and his voice calmed to the point of being unnerving. "I am weak, and I vowed I would never be weak again."

Dylan slowly thought he was beginning to get it. "You're referring to the Kalderan attacks on Tarazed, when you were injured in the Home Guard."

He didn't even blink. "Yes."

"How long did it take you to recover?"

"The first time? I couldn't leave my house for two weeks, and I couldn't get clearance to leave the planet for five." His voice still had that deadly calm, and Dylan suspected there was more to it than that.

"But you obviously recovered. You'll do so again."

"You don't get it, Captain," he tone took on a harsher quality. He wasn't yelling, but he was far from the calm of only a few seconds ago. "Because of that injury, I lost _everything_."

Suddenly, Dylan understood. He tried to get through to the other man. "I know what you're talking about, Rhade, and I'm sorry. But you have to keep in mind that _you survived_. You can't change the past, but you must remember that. Survival."

Rhade just stared back, the fight gone from him. "I wasn't talking about the injury."

Dylan's voice sounded tired as he replied, "Neither was I."

"Sometimes survival isn't enough."

"Make it enough."

Both men sat in silence for a long time. Dylan knew his officer was back on Tarazed, immersed in memories from before they had met. He wasn't sure what to say, but he didn't want to leave in case he could help in any way.

Unsure of how many minutes had passed, Rhade pulled himself from his thoughts. "I'm sorry, Captain. I've been having trouble thinking clearly today."

"It's understandable. No need to apologize."

"I beg to differ. And I apologize for today, it won't happen again."

"That's good to know."

"I won't question your orders again."

Dylan gave a small grin and a slight shake of his head. He stood up, and Rhade promptly followed suit.

"Yes you will." There was amusement in the Captain's voice.

"Sir?" the Nietzschean asked, confused.

Dylan's grin widened ever so slightly. "You're a Rhade." As said Rhade raised an eyebrow, Dylan thought his point had just been made rather clearly and succinctly. But for the other man's benefit, he added, "It's not just physical, Telemachus - you're a lot more like Gaheris than you know."

Rhade wasn't sure if that was a compliment or not, but figured from the non-accusatory tone of Captain Hunt's voice, it was a pretty safe bet the man wasn't holding it against him.

"I'll leave you to get some _rest_," Dylan stated, his emphasis indicating that it in itself was an order. He began walking to the door.

"Yes, Captain," Rhade obliged, seeing him to the exit.

The door slid open, and Dylan stepped so that he was standing over the threshold. "I'll see you on duty tomorrow. Stay away from the pilot station." And just like that, he was gone.

To say Rhade was surprised by the unexpected affirmation that he was still permitted on duty was an understatement. He started at the closed door where his commanding officer had been only moments before.

To the silent room, he stated simply, "Thank you."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

Jade Rhade: The inscription she read was the opening verse to Rhade's poem. And good luck with the fic, be sure to let me know when you've reposted it!


	16. Blurring the Line

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I must say that I'm not sure what caused me to write certain sections of this chapter the way in which I did. Not that I believe them to be inferior (although I suppose your reviews will determine that), but I will admit that certain parts take on a bit of a different feel in this one. Hope it doesn't disappoint!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone.

* * *

**PART FIFTEEN - Blurring the Line**

It was well into the evening and Rhade sat alone on Obs deck, grateful for the solitude. Music floated softly from the ship, the same song repeating over and over. It was music from Tarazed, and he felt calmed by the familiar sounds of his homeworld - it made him feel secure.

It had been several days since the incident in Command, and true to his word Rhade hadn't bothered to ask about piloting. But he had managed to get his duty shifts doubled to four hours, once the almighty golden one had given her permission.

He shook his head and stared out at the stars. He wanted to understand her behaviour, but she was beyond him.

After a few more minutes of silent contemplation, he finally gathered his wits and turned to the real reason he was here. He reached beside him and picked up a flexi, the one he couldn't read in his room - it had felt to closed in, too small. He took in the glowing sphere presented to him on the thin sheet, the one that called itself Amayaúna. He began to read about the planet's history.

It was a small planet, with nothing deeming it of any great significance. Ironic. The Taíno of ancient Earth had believed people came from one of two caves; they came from one, and everyone else emerged from the other, Amayaúna - "without importance." The Taíno had been subjugated by colonizers, and eventually were wiped out. On the planet, the very same was happening to the human inhabitants by the Nietzschean invaders. Perhaps the original colonizers of Amayaúna had chosen the wrong name.

Rhade read through it all, then turned to the planet's records. He searched for one name. Tycho Colis. Cargo runner from Bíran province. His ship, the _Majalla's Heart_, was apparently named after his sister, Majalla Colis, killed seven years ago in a Nietzschean raid.

He moved on to the current crew manifest of the ship, yet to be updated - he idly wondered if Dylan had contacted the planet officials yet.

He read what he could of the crew that had been his tormentors only short weeks ago, trying to understand - understand them, understand the situation, understand himself. In the last decade everyone on that list had lost someone - a sibling, a child, a parent, a lover - compliments of his species. The province of Bíran, it appeared, had suffered the most - of the entire planet, they had the inevitable curse of the most varied of resources. The only Nietzscheans who set foot on their soil did so by force and hostility.

He was so deep in through that he heard the footsteps only after the person had entered the room. He looked back sharply and saw Beka walking towards him.

"Hey," she called, noting his glance.

"Hello," he replied. He clicked off the flexi and placed it on the floor by his foot, out of the way.

"I came to return this," she said, holding up an object - a book. "Andromeda said you were here."

"You're finished, then?" he asked, taking the tome.

"Yep." She sat down beside him.

When she didn't elaborate, he pressed, "And what was your assessment?"

She grimaced. "Honestly? He's a bit of a…" she trailed off, looking for the right description.

Apparently, Rhade found it for her. "Arrogant, egotistical bastard?"

"Uh, yeah, that will do," she conceded.

He gave a half-hearted grin and turned to look back at the vast blanket of celestial bodies. "I thought you might."

She frowned. "Then why tell me to read it?"

He looked at her and answered with his own question. "Why did you read it in such a short period of time?"

She wasn't sure where he was going with this. "Well, he's an _interesting_ arrogant, egotistical bastard."

"Hmm."

"What?"

"Therein lies the answer." He took in her confused expression and elaborated. "I never said I agreed with Scipio's ideas, but that wasn't the point. To fully understand a mindset, you must know all aspects of the spectrum, from the most conservative to the most extreme. Besides," he shot her an amused look, "I thought you might enjoy reading about a Nietzschean who took his superiority complex to new heights."

She grinned. "Yes, that _was_ fun."

He nodded and looked back to the stars. Beka realized he wasn't going to say anything more, so she decided to ask the question that popped into her mind when she had walked in a few minutes earlier.

"What's with the music?"

"Hmm?" he looked at her, then realized what she was talking about. The repeating ballad had been going on for so long, drowning in the back of his mind, he had forgotten it was there. "Oh, that. It's called _Tarazada_, sort of the unofficial official music of my homeworld." Beka frowned. "Sarah Reilly was a good judge of character, but not of music," he explained, grinning. "The official planet anthem isn't the most popular, most of us prefer this," he gestured to the air around them in which the sounds flowed.

Beka listened thoughtfully. The tone of the music sounded a little familiar, perhaps a little reminiscent of one of Harper's lesser-heard collections; he seemed to have stuff from all around ancient Earth, that kind of melodic, "earthy" feel. Although considering what he really liked to listen to, this seemed a little different. It was instrumental, that was for sure, what perhaps would be deemed "ancient European," perhaps with some eastern elements,but she certainly wasn't an expert. It was different, but she kinda liked it.

"It's nice," she commented aloud.

He nodded, listening. "What it represents is important to most of my people - the connection between _everyone_ on Tarazed, particularly humans and Nietzscheans. Thosewho could be the most similar and yet the most different at times. It was composed a few decades after the formation of our society, when relations between the two species were finally settling down - they were the most combative in the beginning. The dance is particularly demonstrative in that respect."

"Dance?" she asked, curious.

"Yes, there is a specific dance, once again the unofficial national symbol, that is performed only to _Tarazada_. It is intricately choreographed, combining aspects and customs of both species. We are all taught it as children."

"That's kinda interesting," she answered genuinely. She gave him a strange smile, but said nothing more.

He looked at her and interpreted what she wasn't saying. He waited a few seconds, then gave in and indulged, flashing an obviously fake smile. "Beka, would _you_ like to learn?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she answered brightly.

He shook his head lightly and stood up, moving to a more open area of the deck. She followed.

As the music looped once more, he began instructing. They stood a few feet apart, facing each other. He had her hold her right forearm up in front of her, as he did the same. She'd seen this before, it reminded her of the way in which Nietzscheans greeted one another, with bone blades exposed.

"So, is this done in a group, or…?"

"In pairs."

"And everyone does this part, even humans?" she asked, dubious.

"Of course," he answered, correcting her position slightly. "It is meant to show that despite everything, we are the same. Don't worry, other parts will be more familiar to you."

"Alright," she agreed, then waited for his instruction.

As he directed, they kept the pose and began to circle one another slowly, in time with the music, keeping their arms upright in front. After a few steps, he abruptly changed direction, exchanging the right arm for the left. She attempted to match his change.

They tried it a few more times, and she began to get the feel for the music. Once he was satisfied he said, "Good. That's the beginning, and it carries on for several exchanges." He instructed the ship's systems to start the music at a specific section, then turned back to her.

Taking her hand in his and pulling her a few inches closer, he said, "Now, the next part."

-o-

Dylan sat at his desk, taking a few moments to himself to relax. That relaxation was short-lived, however, when _Andromeda's_ hologram appeared in front of him.

"Captain," the AI began, "The reply just came through."

Dylan didn't look up. She didn't need to say what the reply was for, he already knew.

"Thanks, Andromeda," he replied. The AI nodded, and the hologram vanished.

He sighed and looked down. Then he turned to the screen behind him. _Here we go…._

-o-

The First Officer was on her way to Command the next morning when the Captain caught up to her in the corridor.

"Beka," he greeted. "Can I have a word?"

She stopped and turned, wondering what she had done this time - or more specifically, what he had found out about - and waiting for him to speak.

He handed her a flexi and said, "I need you to take the _Maru_ and get some supplies. And I want you to take Rhade along."

She looked up and grinned. "Ah, letting the boy out of the playpen, are we?" He didn't say anything, so she glanced down at the list. "No problemo, we should be able to get all this at Seerow Drift, we'll be gone a day, max."

"Uh, yeah, about that," Dylan began. "I need you to go a little further afield. Say…three, four days?"

She frowned in suspicion. "Why?"

He sighed. "We're returning the remains of the _Majalla's Heart_ and her crew to Amayaúna. It'll take us a couple of days to get there and --"

"And you want my help to keep Rhade out of the loop? Dylan, is that such a good idea?"

He shrugged. "I have no idea. But it would probably be best for all parties involved if he were somewhere else when this takes place. If not for his sake, then for theirs. But if he knows, he'll insist on coming solely on principle."

It was her turn to sigh; she just hoped this latest attempt by their dear Captain didn't come back to bite him in the ass. "Alright. Maybe I'll add some things to this," she held up the requisition list, "Make it more believable."

"Good. You leave in five hours." With that, he walked away.

She watched him go, then looked back at the list. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of deceiving her friend, but she had to agree with Dylan - it was better if he stayed clear of that planet. _But_, she observed, _I'm doing this for_ his _sake._

-o-

Rhade walked to the head of the Maru where Beka sat in the pilot's chair. They were still in orbit around the drift where they'd managed to find all of the supplies they'd been sent for. There were a couple items that had required some special searching - he wondered just what possible project Harper could be cooking up this time, based on some of the requests.

"Look's like we've got everything we came for," he announced when she acknowledged him.

"Well," she answered, "We've still got more than a day before we're expected back."

He shrugged. "Dylan should be pleased with our efficiency."

A thoughtful expression crossed her face, and a slow smile crept up behind it. "Maybe, but I've got a better idea on how to kill the time." He raised an eyebrow, waiting. Beka allowed the pilot's chair to shift back and she stood up. "Want a turn?"

He just looked at her. "Are you being serious?"

"Yep. I figure we can spin around for a few hours before heading back."

"I thought you were on express orders to keep me from doing just that."

She shrugged. "Orders change. Dylan said it was at my discretion, and if so, only on the way back." Okay, so it was a half-truth. What Dylan had actually said was that she was to do whatever it took to stall them from coming back early. And she figured this would do it.

"Besides," she added, subconsciously trying to justify it to herself as well, "Your week is pretty much up, right?"

The ghost of a smile washed over his features. "I suppose so."

She gestured to the chair. "Well then…."

"Very well," he answered, but she could see the nearly-hidden anticipating lurking beneath the surface.

"Take it around the system first," she ordered. "And Rhade?" He looked up, and she grinned. "Don't crash my ship."

-o-

The woman turned her cold-as-ice glare on the starship Captain.

"We demand that you turn over that _thing_ to us at once!"

Dylan was not impressed. "_Commander Rhade_ is not on board. And even if he were, there is no chance I'd just hand him over."

The female leader of Bíran province, Cassia Mohenjo, fought to keep her composure. "That _Nietzschean_ is responsible for the deaths of some very well-respected citizens, _Captain_," she spat the last word, "He must be punished!"

Dylan bit back the first response that came to mind. Instead, he said, "Rhade was mentally unstable at the time of the incident, because of what _your_ people put him through. He cannot be held fully accountable." He lowered his voice. "Maybe next time, your citizens will think twice before they capture an innocent man and _torture_ him for weeks on end outof somemisplaced sense of revenge."

Mohenjo glared daggers at him. "Perhaps it is your senses that have been misplaced, Captain Hunt. You harbour the creature that managed to tear apart the very Commonwealth _you_ helped to restore!"

"And perhaps you should become aware of the truth before you pass judgement. Telemachus Rhade represents the true Commonwealth."

Her eyes never left his, never wavered. "Then my people should be grateful it is dead."

Dylan flashed her an obviously fake grin. "But it isn't dead, Councillor."

She didn't say anything in response, just continued to glare at him. If looks could kill, Captain Dylan Hunt would be dead several times over.

"Councillor Mohenjo," he announced in a nicer-sounding tone, steering the topic back on course, "I should think you'd be pleased with our overture. We've returned the bodies of your people and repaired some of the damage to their ship. We've even fixed the containment problem in the cargo hold for safety. I suggest you accept our condolences and leave it at that."

_Her_ tone, however, did not lighten. "Very well," she gritted. She then promptly turned on her heal and stomped out of Command, followed by her entourage.

Dylan sighed after her, his anger and frustration weighing heavily on his mind. _It's never easy…._

-o-

Rhade deftly guided the cargo ship through the swallowing darkness of space, the silence onboard aiding in his concentration. Beka, after being assured through her own observations that he wasn't over-straining himself, had gone to get a little sleep, leaving Rhade alone to his devices.

It hadn't taken him long to change course.

Their trip to this section of space had put him in close proximity to the planet, and he felt an odd, encompassing compulsion to go there. Of course, doing so without Beka's permission, with her own ship - not to mention the fact that she was _on_ it - probably wasn't all that good for his survival, but it was something he had to do. He'd face the woman's wrath when the time came.

As footsteps echoed through the ship, he came to the conclusion that that time had just arrived. He heard her emerge into the cockpit, but waited for her to initiate communication.

"Still in once piece?" she commented brightly. "I'm impressed."

"I did promise," he answered, staring straight ahead.

"You did," she acknowledged, turning to one of the displays. She wanted to know how long before they were to rendezvous with the _Andromeda._

Her eyes went wide when she saw their coordinates. They were headed away from the agreed meeting place. "Um, Rhade?" she asked in a not-so-amused tone, "Where are we going?"

"Amayaúna," came his lethargic reply.

"What?"

He didn't answer right away. She was about to demand an answer when he disengaged the pilot seat and slid back, turning to face her. "We'll be there shortly, and we'll still have time to meet back up with Dylan."

She scoffed incredulously. "That's - that's not the point!" He just looked at her, waiting. He appeared completely serious. "What the hell are you thinking!"

He exhaled deeply, a little confused by her reaction. He had expected her to be angry, yes - pissed, even - but she seemed more concerned, more…apprehensive? "You don't have to worry, Beka. I know what you're thinking, and no, I'm not planning a confrontation."

She crossed her arms. "You're not."

"We'll not make contact with anyone, they don't need to know I'm there." She almost swore she could detect a note of pleading in his voice as he added, "Beka, this is something I have to do."

The look in his eyes, his demeanour - she wasn't quite sure what to make of the situation, or of her friend.

Sincerely, she said, "Tell me."

-o-

She walked slightly behind him through the sea of stone tablets, saying nothing. She'd reluctantly agreed to Rhade's personal mission - why, she wasn't sure.

There had been something about it - the way he'd put it, the hidden logic of the idea, or maybe it was the silent pleas she could sense in his words. No matter the deciding factor, Beka knew beyond a doubt that Rhade truly believed what he was doing was necessary. He would never admit it, but she also suspected that he hoped - even if it was unconsciously - that this act would put to rest at least a few of the demons she knew were haunting him.

They were on the moon orbiting Amayaúna, the barely-habitable rock serving as the holy site for the burial of the planet's dead. Beka knew they were in a complicated situation - if the people on the planet knew they were here, things could get very ugly. Hell, if Dylan found out - and she knew he would eventually, that man could all but read minds - she was in for a big lecture.

But what she feared most was Rhade finding out about their little deception. Rule number one in survival, for both Nietzscheans and non-Nietzscheans alike - if you're gonna lie, don't get caught. Unfortunately for her - and Dylan especially - trying to keep the Captain's little side mission a secret with a crew their size was _not_ going to be easy. She just hoped she could come up with a good excuse for her Nietzschean crewmate before then.

_And,_ she thought to herself_, it would really help a lot if we don't actually run into the _Andromeda_ while we're in this system._

Hopefully that wouldn't happen. It was quite possible that in the amount of time that had passed that Dylan had finished his mission and had left - she remembered trying to hide her relief when a scan of the system hadn't revealed the warship. She just prayed to the Divine that it didn't mean he was running late and had yet to arrive.

Lost in her thoughts, she barely avoided colliding with the Nietzschean's back when he suddenly stopped, apparently finding what he was looking for. She glanced over his shoulder and read the name on the grave.

Majalla Colis. She wasn't particularly surprised - she had read up about the history of the bunch of twisted psychos, too, probably before he had.

Rhade silently knelt down in front of the marker, and Beka took a few steps back, not wanting to intrude. She stood there for several minutes, her eyes attempting to look elsewhere but incessantly kept returning to her crewmate. The silence was uncomfortable, but she held her tongue. _Something he has to do,_ she kept reminding herself.

From the corner of her eye, she suddenly caught movement. He had reached to his belt and unclipped something - a small knife. She frowned when he unsheathed it, unsure and just the slightest bit concerned.

Before she could even think, he had extended his empty palm up and away from his body, the hand with the knife joining it. He pressed the blade to the flesh before she had time to react.

"Hey!" was all she managed before he made a quick downward motion with the bladed hand. She quickly moved forward.

She needn't have been concerned - at least not for his safety, if not his state of mind. The cut was small and shallow, not much more than a scratch. He didn't acknowledge her, merely held his palm down and out, allowing a few scant drops of crimson to fall to the packed earth in front of the stone. Both arms promptly dropped to his sides.

Beka was more confused, but wasn't sure she should ask. It didn't matter, however, as he spoke, "My blood - Nietzschean blood - spilled over her grave." His voice was sombre, barely above a whisper. "It's all he wanted. She never did anything wrong."

He was silent once more, staring down. Beka slowly moved to stand beside him and hesitantly extended a hand to his shoulder. When he didn't flinch or pull away, she gave a gentle squeeze.

Rhade waited a few seconds longer, then got up and turned to face her, locking his eyes with her own. She wasn't sure, but she thought she could see a little more relaxation in his eyes, the tiniest bit of tension removed from his features.

"I'm done here. Let's go home."

Beka nodded in agreement, and led the way back to the _Maru_.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**

For anyone interested, the music I had in mind when coming up with the beginning of this chapter was "Marco Polo" by Loreena McKennitt, a really great track that I recommend.

Also, that GRhade music vid that I mentioned way back when is now complete, you can follow the links in my profile to find it.


	17. The Rounded Corner of Deceit

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I apologize for the delay in getting this one out. I was a little dissatisfied with what I originally had and so ended up adding a significant chunk, which unfortunately meant I had to battle my way through a major bout of writer's block. However I think it paid off, and I hope you agree. And I just want to thank my reviews again for their kind words and encouragement, you're the best!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone. Enjoy!

**

* * *

PART SIXTEEN - The Rounded Corner of Deceit**

Rhade stood outside of Hangar 3 and readied himself for what he had to do next. There was no sense putting it off any longer. Taking a deep breath, he stepped closer to the entrance and waited for it to open, then proceeded inside.

He managed to get all the way inside the massive space before noticing a glaring error - the hangar was empty. Frowning and backtracking quickly, he found the nearest corridor display screen and all but shouted, "Andromeda!"

-o-

Dylan lounged at his desk, reading the latest ship-wide update, when a very irate Nietzschean came stomping through the door.

"Why the _hell_ did you lie to me!"

The Captain merely looked up and raised his eyebrows, placing the report down on the desk. "Permission to barge in, Commander?"

Rhade quickly closed the distance between himself and the opposite edge of the desk, leaning forward and bracing his arms against the surface. "Where's the _Majalla's Heart_?" Sighing, Dylan sat back in his chair and nodded, knowing what this was about. "You deliberate sent me away when you went to Amayaúna, _without_ telling me!"

Dylan pushed up from his chair, allowing himself to stand taller than the Nietzschean. He had known the other man would somehow get wind of his little deception at some point down the line, even despite his apparent ignorance when they had picked up the _Maru _two days ago. He believed the majority of the crew had understood the silent order that the mission was not to be discussed under _any_ circumstances, but it was inevitable. He had only hoped Rhade wouldn't find out so soon, figuring more time would offer up a less angry officer.

"How did you find out?" he asked calmly, not wanting to add to the fire just now.

"It was rather obvious when I went to the hangar bay, and I found the rest out when I had to _order_ the AI to tell me!"

Dylan sighed. He had instructed the AI not to withhold the information if Rhade directly demanded it, figuring that would only make matters worse in the long run. But he chose to focus on another part of the other man's statement. "Why did you go to the hangar?" It wasn't an accusatory question, simply curiosity - or at least it came off that way. In truth, the Captain was sure he knew why.

Rhade stopped for a moment, not having been prepared to answer that question. He shook his head. "That doesn't matter."

Dylan raised his eyebrows in disbelief, but didn't comment further. "Yes," he replied calmly, choosing to sit back down in his chair, "We went to Amayaúna, and yes, I chose not to tell you."

"Why!" he no longer sounded angry…at least not as angry as he had been a few moments ago. His question sounded more like an extremely frustrated plea.

The Captain gestured to the chair across from him, to Rhade's right. The Nietzschean didn't budge at first, but after the other man's calm, silent insistence, he finally gave in and sat down.

"I didn't tell you," Dylan began, "Because I knew you would insist on being there, in person, when I met with the planet officials."

"Any reason why I wouldn't?" his voice clearly harboured resentment.

"No really, no. And that's why I didn't say anything."

"Captain --"

"No, Rhade. Listen to me." Dylan leaned forward and rested his clasped hands on the desk in front of him. He looked away briefly, trying to formulate his thoughts, then looked back at the man across from him and attempted to phrase his reasoning in a way that the Nietzschean would grasp. "Having you here when the Amaya delegates were on board would have been cause for trouble, I'm sure somewhere deep down you know that."

"Captain, despite my _fragile_ state of mind," he forced out with ice-cold sarcasm, "I would never endanger the reputation of this crew. I doubt my abilities to have been pleasant, but I certainly wouldn't have caused irreparable damage."

The Captain chose the ignore the insolent tone…for now. "Have I said, anywhere in this _discussion_," he emphasized the word, trying to remind the angry Nietzschean that itwas indeed _not_a verbal sparring match, "That I believed you yourself would cause any diplomatic problems?"

Rhade opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated, brows furrowing in confusion. He honestly had no idea where Dylan was going with this. Finally, he asked, "Then why the deception?"

Dylan silently noted the voice of his officer had been brought down a notch or two. He leaned back in his chair, elbow upon the armrest, jaw restingagainst his knuckles. He looked at the other man as he began to speak. "What Colis and his crew did to you was…" he trailed off as Rhade sighed in irritation at the words and looked away, his frustration evident.

"Rhade, listen," he ordered. Reluctantly, the Nietzschean in question looked back at him. "What they did to you was beyond forgivable, I have no qualms about saying that. But you have to understand that not every Amayan can be represented by those few."

Rhade opened his mouth to protest, the Captain having known before he said anything that his officer would claim he had never believed that, but he held up a hand, not having finished his thought. "However, that said…after meeting with several citizens, in particular the leader of Bíran, I can't claim there are none who share their views."

The other man was silent for a moment, expecting his Captain to continue. When he didn't, he said, "And this is relevant because…?"

Dylan pushed his jaw away from its resting place and sighed, not at his officer but at the situation. "When we returned the ship and the crew, we were dealing with a very delicate matter. I didn't want anything to happen that would make the situation any more volatile than it had to be. That included riling the population any further than it already was. The Bíran leaders wanted to take you into custody."

Rhade sat up a little straighter at that - he would have expected nothing less from them, but still…hearing it directly was another thing.

"Naturally, I refused. But they were fairly adamant about the matter, even when I said you weren't on the ship. Eventually they left the matter alone, but I don't know how well the situation would have gone had you been there yourself." Dylan made sure he was looking the other man in the eye when he said, "And I thought it best, in order for _all _parties to continue to heal, that they do that healing on their own."

"Are you saying I would have prevented them from coming to terms with all this?" his voice had lost much of the edge it had had when Rhade first entered the room, replaced now with a mix of confusion and realization.

"That's exactly what I'm saying." Dylan leaned forward once again, not sure who he was trying to convince more - Rhade or himself. In his mind he knew the reasons for sending the man away…well, he was pretty sure he did, sort of…but he wasn't sure how to get those reasons across to his crewman. "Forget the leaders, forget every Amaya who would have shared in Colis' view. What about those who were just…distressed at the death of their friends, their people? Their own leaders wouldn't have given them the whole story, all they would have seen you as is the murderer that crew wanted to make you out to be."

When Rhade looked away, Dylan was quick to add, "A title you do _not_ deserve, nor do you hold." When he looked back up, the Nietzschean took a bit of strength from the Captain's sincerity.

"To know for sure that the person responsible for your pain was so close, so close you could actually see him, and yet completely unattainable…and then there's you."

Rhade had, until that point, been seriously contemplating his Captain's words. That is, until he heard that last bit. His defences once again being brought to the forefront, he demanded, "What about me?"

"Would being here have done more for your piece of mind than going to Amayaúna on your own did?"

The pilot sat up straighter in his chair, but said nothing. So Dylan knew. He could live with that. "You didn't know that I was going to do that beforehand."

"No, although I must say I really shouldn't have been all that surprised," Dylan let a small, sadsmile flash briefly across his features. "I probably would have done the same. But the fact remains that you being here when we arrived publicly on the planet, confronted with all that conflict, would not have done any good for your frame of mind."

"My frame of mind was just fine, Captain, thank you."

Dylan raised his gaze ever so slightly. "Then why did you go to Amayaúna on your own? For that matter, why were you just at the hangar bay?"

Rhade visibly deflated a little at that, unable to come up with a reasonable response. He was loathe to admit that Captain Hunt was making some rather twisted sense…at least he thought he was. And the implications behind that didn't sit well with him.

Dylan sighed. "I'll be the first one to admit that no, I probably didn't handle the situation as best I could, but I chose to do what I thought was right. The question is…was I?"

There was silence for several long moments. Rhade, while his head was no longer down, was not looking at the man before him, but rather stared off to the side, at nothing, as a thousand and one thoughts ran through his mind. Finally, the Captain was graced with the slow, affirmative nodding of the absent Nietzschean's head.

Dylan gave his own nod, glad he had made his point but not really happy about the situation itself. Then he asked, "What about Amayaúna? Did you find what you were looking for?"

This time, Rhade did meet his eyes. "I don't know. I guess I'll find out eventually."

"I hope so."

After Dylan failed to carry the conversation any further, Rhade found himself resisting the urge to fidget in the awkward silence. He suspected the Captain may have wanted him to elaborate, but it wasn't going to happen, not at the moment at any rate. Putting on his most unfazed expression, he began, "If that's all…."

"You came to see me, remember?"

Rhade knew when he was being given a graceful way out, and nodded, standing up. He turned and started for the door, but stopped midway and turned back, speaking. "Captain…I do understand why you did it, and I suppose I appreciate it. However, I don't appreciate being lied to by those closest to me. Don't do it again, and don't force _them _to do it again."

Dylan raised his eyebrows at the command from his subordinate, but gave no reprimand. It was a command he'd be all to willing to take to heart. He wouldn't take backhis recent actions, but he didn't want to have to repeatthem further down the line, for any of his crew.

Just as Rhade was about to face the door once more, the Captain's voice stopped him. "For what it's worth, Beka was against the _order_," he made sure to emphasize the fact that it had indeed been commanded of her. "And she was reluctant to tell me about your little sojourn to the planet. Go easy on her."

Rhade had turned away just as Dylan began speaking, his words reminding the Nietzschean once more that it was more than one friend who had played a direct part in the deception. He contemplated those words for a few seconds longer, then said simply, "Thank you, Captain." And with that, he quietly left the room.

-o-

Rhade turned to Beka with a look that was far from amused. "You deceived me."

She met his gaze and did her best to look innocent. "I didn't, I…I never intended to, I swear."

His expression didn't change, save for the disbelieving raise of an eyebrow. The staring contest didn't last long, however, because Beka couldn't help the slow upturn of her lips. Grinning, she admitted, "Okay, so I did."

He gave a dramatic sigh and leaned his head back against the wall. Beka continued to grin and turned back to the screen.

They were sitting at the head of his bed, facing the display screen on the opposing wall, bowl of popcorn between them. Beka had insisted on the old, archaic film, apparently under false pretenses.

"Oh, come on," she lamented. "If I said the plot had anything else besides war and conflict, you wouldn't have considered it."

"On the contrary," he replied, turning back to the film, "I enjoy many genres. Personally, I am not regretting this choice." And it was true, for the most part. They were about a third in, and he had to admit it wasn't half-bad…but he'd certainly seen better.

"See?" she commented smugly.

"_However_," he continued, "From your description, I became in the mood for --"

"War?" she interrupted, amused, as she turned to him.

He slowly swung his head in her direction. He shot her an annoyed look, but she could tell he was enjoying this. "Conflict."

Beka rolled her eyes and focussed back on the screen. Telemachus did the same.

A few scenes later, Rhade felt a weight against his side. He looked over, noting that Beka had shifted so that she was leaning against him, her head resting on the side of his shoulder at an angle that still allowed her to view the film. He was a little surprised by the action. "Tired?"

She sighed deeply. "Yeah, long shift earlier. Maybe war wouldn't have been a bad choice, it would have helped keep me more awake."

He grinned lightly, looking back to the screen. "I thought you liked this."

"I do, but all the same - bad choice when you're tired." Suddenly, her eyes snapped up to his face and he felt the weight against him lessen somewhat. "I'm not hurting you or anything, am I?"

He shook his head and looked over. "No, I think I can manage," he indulged.

"Good," she said with a small laugh, then resumed her earlier position against him.

After a few seconds, Rhade spoke up, a little sarcastically. "Long shift? I'm starting to forget what that is. Five hours?" Dylan still had him at four hours - but he was not above hope, it seemed like he might make it up to six in a few days.

She gave a bit of a laugh. "Yeah, I wish." She reached up and gave him a smack in the chest while commenting, "Smartass."

He exhaled sharply at the contact. She looked up. "Okay," he admitted slowly, his voice tensed, "That _did_ hurt." She'd managed to find one of the last ribs that had yet to fully heal.

Beka quickly moved off him and looked at him in guilty concern. "Damn Rhade, I'm sorry, I didn't --"

He waved off the concern. "Do not worry about it. Minor irritation."

She still looked really apologetic. "You sure?"

He gave her a look of reassurance. "I'm fine." When she didn't say anything in response, he gestured toward the screen. "Let's watch the film."

She nodded and turned her attention back to the display. After a few moments had passed, Rhade silently snaked a hand around to her other side and nudged her back against him. She complied, and resumed her position leaning against his side, being careful not to jolt him too hard. She figured it was his way of saying she was forgiven.

Some time later, as the film was winding down, Rhade turned to the woman beside him, whom he had known to have fallen asleep some time ago. She had been visibly exhausted earlier in the evening, and he didn't want to wake her.

Carefully, he moved her off his shoulder and lowered her to one side of the bed, pulling back the covers awkwardly as he did so, and replacing them over her sleeping form. He studied her face for a few seconds - she looked more peaceful than he was accustomed to seeing when she was awake.

He moved back to where he had been sitting and resumed watching the last of the film.

-o-

Beka was slowly pulled from sleep - by what, she was too out of it to tell. As she furthered her way to consciousness, she slowly became more aware of her surroundings.

The first thing she noticed was a small sense of moving, as if the mattress beneath her was being disrupted, and of a low, muffled sound. She slowly opened her eyes - the room was mostly dark, but the glow from the blank view screen allowed her to see well enough. Well enough to be able to tell that she was definitely _not_ in her own bedroom on the _Andromeda_, let alone the _Maru._

Quickly dismissing the throught, she turned to the figure laying beside her, the one who had been the cause of her wakened state. Rhade's features were screwed tightly in sleep, small jerky movements and muttered, incomprehensible words giving her the answer she was looking for - he was having a nightmare.

Beka pushed herself up into a sitting position - it was more awkward than she had anticipated, he was laying atop the covers, and her mobility was restricted in that regard. Untwisting herself from the sheets, she moved across the distance separating them and put a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling. She shook him gently and called out to him, using his first name.

"Telemachus," she spoke, forcefully but quietly. "Telemachus, wake up." She nudged him once more, a little harder than before.

That did it. His eyes snapped open as he bolted upright. Louder than he had before, he mumbled what sounded to Beka an awful lot like "Colis." She watched as his eyes darted around the room, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. It didn't take him long to recognize where he was; when he looked over at her, he had visibly relaxed.

Beka looked and felt a little uncomfortable. "You, uh…nightmare, huh?" she managed, not sure what to say.

He sighed heavily and leaned back on his elbows. "I suppose so." His voice was quiet, dejected.

"You okay?"

Rhade stared forward and contemplated her question. No, he really wasn't - the nightmare itself was testament to that fact, but it was certainly nothing new, not since he'd returned to the ship. No, the fact that he'd had one - had been having _them_ - was a problem in and of itself. For as long as Rhade could remember, anytime a nightmare would begin to surface, he was instantly awake, instantly alert. But ever since this whole mess started, that had not been the case. Most often nowadays they played out, tormenting him in his time of sleep.

Another problem had arisen, too. As Beka had just demonstrated, the odd times he had been awoken by another from the haunting visions (mostly it had been accomplished by medical personnel while he had been confined to Med deck), he found himself in a state of confusion, of surprise. When people woke him from sleep, he should be on them instantly, pinning them and holding his bone blades to their throats. But that wasn't happening. He was being caught off-guard, and that was something Telemachus Rhade could not allow.

"Rhade?"

He looked over at her and noted the concerned look - his night vision was still good, even if all of his other senses were failing him. He realized he hadn't answered her question - once again ignoring his surroundings. "Yeah, I'll be fine." He ran a hand over his face.

She nodded and looked around the darkened room, once again uncomfortable. "So…why are we in your bed, exactly?"

"You fell asleep in the middle of the film," he answered. "I suppose I must have done the same, near the end." He thought back, and could only remember the tell-tale signs of the film's wrap-up, but not the final conclusion.

"Oh." She didn't feel like addressing the fact that she had been under the covers. Instead, she hesitated a moment, then gestured toward the door. "I guess I should…" she started toward the edge of the bed.

"Stay," he told her. She looked back, and he caught a good look at her features. "You're still half-asleep, you might as well."

"You sure?" she asked, sounding a little doubtful.

He looked away with a short chuckle - it sounded just the bit self-depreciating. "I'll try not to wake you again." Oh yeah, definitely self-depreciating, she could tell by his voice and body language.

She sighed. "That's not what I meant."

He shrugged and leaned back down, all the while saying, "I know. It's up to you, go if you want." He settled back on the bed, once again on top of the covers.

_For my benefit?_ she thought briefly, then dismissed the idea. Her eyes moved several times between the door and the spot on the large bed she'd been occupying just moments before, trying to decide. She really should go, but the bed had been rather comfortable, and she really just wanted to crawl back under the covers.

Finally she gave in and moved back to her spot, snuggling back under the blankets. "Good night," she called out quietly, "I'll see ya in the morning."

There was a long pause. And then, "Good night, Beka."

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	18. Parting the Veil

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Didn't have the best day today - nothing serious, just one of those days where a bunch of little things pile up to create some nice stress. But as an outlet (other than a nice Taekwondo training session), I decided to get this thing finished up and posted, so I guess it wasn't all bad...however, I will let you be the judge of that, since I honestly don't know how this chapter will go over! I do love experiments. And as always, I want to thank my reviewers - you always make my day just a bit brighter, and I'm glad you're enjoying the ride!

Any and all mistakes are mine alone...except in the instance where separate words magically get squished together in the QuickEdit (hah!) process...have I mentioned before how much I loathe that feature? No way around it...sigh.

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* * *

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**PART SEVENTEEN - Parting the Veil**

The rest of the night passed without incident. The following morning, before leaving his room, she had attempted to talk to him, get him to open up, but he brushed off the incident, and she didn't want to push the issue. At least not right away. It was still a little strange for her, too.

Still concerned, however, Beka found herself in Dylan's office not too much later.

"I'm worried about Rhade," she told him, straight to the point.

Dylan leaned back in his chair. "How so?"

"Not physically or anything," she was quick to explain. She'd told the Captain of their little side-trip to Amayaúna a few days earlier, just after the _Andromeda_ had apparently left the system. He hadn't been too happy, but had understood the Nietzschean's reasoning, at least partly. But she had the feeling that if he suddenly turned up worse for wear, that trip and his chance to pilot - and by extension, _she_ - might be blamed.

"It's just that," she continued, "We all know he hasn't really been himself. I know he's still having nightmares, last night I had to pull him out of one."

Dylan cocked his head. "You were in Rhade's room last night?"

Beka paused and rolled her eyes. "We fell asleep watching a film. Besides, that's not the point." Dylan nodded for her to continue. "He won't talk to me about whatever is going on, and I have a feeling it hasn't come up with anyone else, either."

"And you want me to try?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that if you knew…" she left the thought hanging.

He shot his second a sincere look. "I'll see what I can do."

"Thanks, Dylan." She then turned and left the Captain alone in his office.

Dylan watched the door shut and sighed, leaning forward on his desk. Beka was right, something was up with Rhade. Not that he didn't have reason to be troubled, but the stubborn Nietzschean needed to learn to trust his shipmates. Yes, he had opened up briefly to Dylan, but the Captain got the impression that it had been a one-time deal, although he'd certainly be willing to try again. He just doubted it would get him anywhere.

No, who he needed was Trance. She had come to be a sort of counsellor, along with all the various other positions she filled onboard, thanks to her gifts and her personality in general. But that was a problem right now, and no one seemed to know why. He got the impression Rhade himself didn't even know why.

Dylan sighed again. It looked as though he'd have to solve one problem before he dealt with the Nietzschean's current state of mind.

"Andromeda."

The AI hologram appeared in front of him. "_Yes, Captain?_"

"Can you have Trance come down here when she gets a minute?"

The hologram nodded and disappeared. Less than a minute later, however, she blinked back into view. "_She's on her way_."

"Thank you, Andromeda. When she gets here, engage privacy mode."

The hologram frowned momentarily, but answered with an "_Aye, Captain_." After all, it wasn't like the AI hadn't become accustomed to closed conversations between the two. Once again, she blinked out.

-o-

After she had left, Rhade had made his way to a chair in the living area of his quarters and slumped down, staring ahead but seeing nothing as his thoughts ran away with themselves. He could tell Beka had half-hoped he'd talk to her about what happened the night before, but he didn't think he could. He also suspected that despite her claims, she was partly relieved when he declined, as was evidenced by her quick dismissal of the subject. He knew Beka - if she truly wanted that discussion, it probably would have taken place whether he agreed or not.

He had long ago given up on attempting to decipher the meaning behind his nightmares; he knew well enough what was causing them - everyone did. But making sense of them was another matter. What he could recall was chaos, random images, memories,and words all mixed together in an incoherent mess.

But he didn't know how to make them go away. In the waking world it seemed to him that those thoughts and memories were just that - small, insignificant, jumbled pieces that had been pushed to the back of his mind. Of late, in the waking world, they had ceased to really bother him, and had seldom even been brought up. Obviously not so when his unconscious mind was in control.

_But that's not true, is it?_ he heard in the back of his mind, from that little place where those thoughts and memories lay suppressed. He hated when that voice was right.

No, if he was honest, it wasn't completely true. There _had_ been instances where he appeared to succumb to the influence of that little place while he was conscious. But he didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit he wasn't in complete control. In fact, at that moment he made a decision, wanting to prove hehad control.

He stood up quickly and crossed to the bookshelf againstthe wall. Picking up one of the books there, not caring what the title was, he only took notice long enough to ensure it was one he knew had blank pages in the back for notes. He ripped a page out carefully, and searched the shelf for one of the archaic styluses he kept around for when he wanted to make notes in his readings. Finding what he was looking for, he placed the paper on the shelf for support and started scrawling.

After only a few moments, he grinned in relief, dropping the stylus to the shelf and lifting the small sheet of old paper to his eyes to better see the words that lie there. Score one point against that nagging little voice in the back of his head, he _wasn't_ a slave to his demons.

Suddenly, however, as his eyes started to scan the verses in order, to see them assembled as they were in their entirety, his throat tightened and he looked away, bombarded with mental images and whispered voices in his head - not his, this time, but those of his former tormentors. He quickly slapped the paper face down onto the shelf and turned away, breathing deeply to control his nerves.

So apparently it was a hollow victory. He could think about it, he could write it down…but once he attempted to read the words or listen - to put it all together - and the poem brought the nightmares to light. He wasn't ready, and that thought frustrated him more than anything he thought possible.

He shook his head at the irony. That poem had been ingrained in him by his father when he was a child, in the hopes that it would serve to ground him in the event of something like the torture he had recently gone through, so that it could help him hold onto his sanity. The problem was, it had worked. Now what had helped him to hold it back was a cause for him to lose it - it was something that wouldn't sit well with anyone, let alone a Nietzschean.

He sighed in resignation. At least he was able to write the words, that was something. Time. That's what he needed. It might take awhile, but as long as he didn't quit - something that never would have crossed his mind as being a viable option in the first place - he was positive he'd eventually get over whatever the hell was haunting him. He'd certainly had to do it before.

As he pulled himself from his thoughts, he turned and headed for the shower; it was time for him to get ready for Command. Dwelling on his problems certainly wasn't going to help him with getting rid of them.

-o-

True to her word, a few minutes later the door slid open and revealed the resident golden woman. She stepped further into the room.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Have a seat." Dylan gestured to a chair opposite himself, incidentally the very one Rhade himself had sat in the last time he had "visited" the Captain. She sat down. "I wanted to talk to you about Rhade."

She nodded. "His progress is coming along well. He should be fit to return to full duty in a matter of a week or so."

"That's not what I wanted to talk about." He was met with her questioning look. "How's his mental state? Nightmares?"

She nodded again in understanding. "That answer is not as easy. I was aware of the nightmares, yes. While I can't say for sure how he is coping with them, I can say that it is normal for someone in his condition to experience them."

"Yes, but isn't it also normal, or at least necessary, for someone to have an outlet for any lingering issues? Someone to talk to?"

"Usually."

"Well, now we have a problem. As I'm sure you're aware, Rhade doesn't seem to think he needs anyone to talk to."

Trance's face was devoid of emotion. "As I suspected. I _did_ try to talk to him about it, but he wasn't very cooperative."

Dylan gave her a small, tired smile. "That seems to be the general consensus."

"Would you like me to try again?"

Dylan smiled again, but this time it was a little more forced. "Ah, but now we have another problem. You and Rhade aren't really communicating well these days. From what I and others have seen, you're avoiding one another and only talking when necessary."

Trance looked down at her hands, silent.

"Look Trance, I can't force you two to cooperate, at least not effectively. But he needs you, you're probably the only one who can get through to him."

She looked up. "Dylan, I've tried. He's not comfortable around me anymore."

"What happened between you?" he asked, getting a little frustrated.

She appeared a little apprehensive. "He thinks I'm keeping something from him."

"And are you?" She avoided his gaze. "Dammit Trance, I need to know what's going on so I can help. Help the both of you. Now, I take it there _is_ something you haven't told him."

She sounded almost sheepish when she answered, "In a way."

He waited, but she remained silent after that. He sighed and pushed away from his chair, pacing the room. "Alright, I'll play your game." His voice betrayed his growing irritation. "None of this started until after we found him, so I'm guessing something happened in the interim that somehow affects him, or both of you."

Her voice was shy, timid - surprising him a little. "Not exactly…."

"Well, what then!"

He could see the internal struggle seeping into her features. When she finally answered, it wasn't at all what he expected.

"How well did you know Gaheris Rhade?"

Dylan was thrown for a moment at the odd question. He stopped his rounds and opted to reclaim his chair. "Well…at the time I would have thought very well, but in hindsight I'd say that would be wrong." His voice was laced with the hint of sarcasm.

"But his personality, his mannerisms…would you say that you knew them?"

Dylan thought for a moment before answering. "Yes, I would."

Once again, Trance was hesitant. "And how would you compare them to Telemachus?"

He had no idea where she was taking him, but figured the best way to find out would be to tag along. "They certainly have their differences, but I'll admit ancestor and descendant are similar, in more ways than one. Then again, at least some behavioural traits are linked to genetics, and they _are_ genetically identical, so I suppose it doesn't come as much of a surprise."

She leaned forward. "And have you ever wondered about that?"

Dylan was caught off-guard - for a moment she almost seemed like the old Trance: mysterious, enigmatic…_amused_.

For the second time in recent weeks, he felt himself remembering a conversation that was years old….

_-_

_"It's quite rare, but it does happen."_

_"What are the odds? My own First Officer reincarnated on a planet settled by _my_ fiancée?"_

"The chance of a specific human DNA combination reoccurring is approximately one in three-times-ten to the fifteenth power."

_"…The odds are _still_ in the trillions…."_

-

Tyr had been right, apparently - it _was_ a big universe. His thoughts returned to the present. "I'll admit, at the time I thought it was a little…convenient."

"And now?"

He stared at her, trying to peer behind those misleading eyes. She was insinuating something, and he didn't know what. Not that it was surprising, but he wasn't sure how much more cryptic information he could take from her; he'd had a lot lately. But then again, she'd also presented him with some hard explanations in the last few months, perhaps he could manage one out of her this time.

"Trance, I don't know what you want me to say." She remained silent. "Yes, I can see how Gaheris and Telemachus are similar, but I can't see how this --"

"Same."

It had been uttered so quietly that Dylan wasn't sure she had actually said anything. "I'm sorry?"

She looked up from where she'd been studying her hands. He was quite surprised to see the sadness there. He didn't say anything, however, as she spoke first.

"Not similar, the same. Environmental situations can account for the subtle differences in their personalities, but they are the same."

Dylan frowned as a memory surfaced. "Isn't that what Telemachus said when --"

"When you brought him to Medical, yes. For a moment I believed he had somehow figured it out, but soon it became clear that he did not, that it was just a fluke."

"…Figured what out?" he asked slowly, unsure if he wanted to know the answer. "Trance?"

She closed her eyes momentarily, chewing on her lip, summoning her courage. When her eyes opened once more, he saw determination there, and the lightest hint of guilt. She breathed deeply.

"Dylan, Telemachus _is_ Gaheris."

* * *

**To Be Continued... **

And before you ask - no, I haven't lost my marbles. At least not all of them. I'm sure there were still a few floating around here earlier...


	19. His Own Story

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Well the response to the last chapter was better than I had hoped, and with any luck, this one will explain some questions and not put anyone off! I should mention that when I originally had the idea of this storyline between Trance and the Rhades, I had planned to write it as its own entity.But as I was currently working on this one at the time, I thought it might be an interesting addition and bring in a new element, and hopefully you'll agree it was a good choice...or maybe an "okay" choice. I guess I'll just have to wait and see!

There are some direct spoilers for TUM in this one, but since you're reading this, I'm assuming you have at least a working knowledge of that episode...and if not, well...it should still make sense. Oh yes, and this chapter is randomly dedicated to Hermiod - that little Asgard is just too fantastic for words! (sorry Thor, not trying to cheat on you or anything)

Any and all mistakes (that are not QuickEdit-induced) are mine alone.

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**PART EIGHTEEN - His Own Story**

_"But so much as happened, there's so much for him to understand, so much for him to know…."_

_Trance stared at the man in front of her, the man so far away in his thoughts. She felt as though she could read his mind, and indeed she knew what was going on in his head. Gone was the being who thought only of himself, replaced by the man who would do whatever it took to bring order to chaos. If she were honest, that transformation had taken place long ago. She made a decision, right then and there._

_Stepping forward quickly, she pressed her lips to his cheek, ever so lightly, absorbing his essence. Whispering without a sound, yet heard all the same, she spoke to him. "_You'll see them all again, you'll see_ her _again. This I promise_."_

_She pulled back quickly, and addressed his last comment aloud. "Make sure that he does. It's up to you now."_

_Before his very eyes, he saw the blue hues claim her, his last way out pulled through space and time. He closed his eyes, concentrating on fighting the inbred survivalist nature of his very being, knowing what had to be done._

_Making a final decision, he turned and walked down the corridor that was so familiar, and yet so far removed from himself. Her words, strange as he'd heard them, gave him the strength he needed. If only they had been true…he wasn't a fool, but he appreciated the sentiment nonetheless._

_-o-_

_The fight was drawn out, sorrow filling the hearts of both men as they knew what must be done - yet the goal was different for each of them._

_"…The Commonwealth is no place for the strong…."_

_He was convincing, but Trance knew the words from his lips were a lie, at least now that the years had passed. She watched without being seen, holding open the tidal forces of the tesseracts, out of phase just enough to go unnoticed. She had to see this through. She claimed it was vital to her mission, but she already knew how it would play out. No, she watched for _him_, for all that he was giving up. _

_"…Pessimism is not a survival trait…."_

_She saw the struggle, his mind working against itself. He was a little too convincing, it was his Nietzschean instinct refusing the commands he ordered - to let the other win._

_But then she saw it. The momentary hesitation, the tiny, nearly imperceptible, almost insignificant jerk to the right. It gave the other the second chance he needed as he spin out of the way of the blast. It was over now, she'd seen it already. The avatar closed her eyes against the final blow, opening them again only when she heard the sound of his fallen form hitting the deck._

_The other man ran to his friend, disbelief crowding his features. "Gaheris, what have you done!"_

_Trance saw the pain on his face, the myriad of feelings. Physical pain, mental pain…of what he had done, what he had sacrificed, what he had lost in that one instant…. But there was something else there, too…hope. Hope that his act of genetic defiance would do what he himself could not._

_But he was wrong, it wasn't defiance at all. His personal survival had been overruled, it was true, but in doing so he had done the best he could to ensure the survival of the Universe itself - what better proof of a true Nietzschean was there?_

_She owed it to him to show him that his sacrifice was not in vain. She would see that new personal mission through to its end, and prayed that he would be none the wiser._

_"…I'm proud of you…you should be…."_

_It was done, _he_ was done. But not forever. He'd proven his value, his genetic worth - that would be her excuse. But it was not her primary reason. Trance brought her fingers to her lips, stroking gently to gather the priceless code that clung there, the code she had insured would be deposited there only moments before. _

_There was one more phase to this plan, one more assurance to guarantee their greatest chances of survival against the coming darkness. She allowed the tesseracts to swallow her essence and began to sift through the infinity of it all. Two-hundred and seventy-one linear years from her present location, that's what she was looking for. That, and a planet that had not been colonized in this present time, but in a few years would come to be known as Tarazed._

_Yes, he had proven his genetic worth…his personal worth…with this sacrifice. She only hoped genetics would have enough influence on development, that the environment would work in her…in _his_…favour. _

_She found the time and the place, now she needed only find the woman - it took her mere fractions of a second. With the help of a simple bio-technique, her plan was complete._

_And she hoped she was never found out._

_-o-0-o-_

Captain Dylan Hunt stared at the golden woman as if she had suddenly gone nova before his very eyes, his brows reaching up to touch his hairline. "Uh…excuse me?"

Trance Gemini looked down, sorrow clouding her unusual features. She was not joking. Before he could demand an explanation, she spoke, softly and full of regret.

"I knew Gaheris. I can't tell you how. But I had a hand in his final acts."

If possible, the Captain's eyes grew even wider, this time the disbelief joined with anger. "You convinced him to betray me!"

She looked up sharply. "No! No…I convinced him to betray himself." The man before her frowned. "To let you kill him."

His frown deepened. "What?" His mind ran with the possibilities, the memories. He didn't understand.

She let out a breath, one she didn't need, and turned away, wandering slowly to the far side of the room. He kept a small plant there. Gingerly, she stroked the leaves with her fingers and answered.

"The time of Telemachus Rhade's conception was no coincidence, Dylan. It was intervention."

He paused for a moment. "Yours?"

She turned to him slowly and inclined her head. She did not speak, but it was answer enough. She allowed him a few moments for the revelation to sink in before explaining further.

"I watched Gaheris sacrifice everything. Twice." She turned back to the plant - aware, but blissfully ignorant. How she wished to trade places with it. "And then I watched him do what we thought no Nietzschean could ever do - he sacrificed himself; for you, for everyone he ever loved, because he _knew_ he had failed, he _knew_ it was not in his power to succeed."

Dylan's eyes were wide again - if he hadn't already been sitting, he would have done so, rather ungracefully. His thoughts had briefly focused on her use of "we," but moved on as she spoke of a more significant matter. There was something in the back of his mind, some nagging bit of understanding that was beyond him, that would not be deciphered.

"I told myself we needed him," she continued, and he could hear the regret and the guilt in her voice. "And we did." Her eyes found his once again. "I determined Gaheris was not the one to lead the mission, but I knew he would need to play a part in it. Telemachus is invaluable to our mission - to your mission. They all are." Her gaze wandered again. "But that's not why I did it."

Dylan wasn't sure he could speak even if he had anything intelligent to say. He just waited for her to go on.

"I owed it to him to make up for the enormous sacrifices he made for me, for the Universe. I wanted to make up for the lifetime of sorrow and pain he experienced." She took a step toward the Captain, her composure faltering slightly, urgency invading her voice. "Instead, I gave him two."

She was waiting for something, and so he asked the question. "How so?"

The avatar closed her eyes and sighed once more. When she opened them, they mirrored the exhaustion she felt I in her mind. "Dylan…you know his history, you've read the reports, you've talked to him about it personally."

Dylan flinched involuntarily, remembering the conversation he'd had with Telemachus shortly after he'd joined the crew. It had been one he'd rather forget. He wasn't sure how Trance knew about it, but he wasn't surprised that she did.

"It's more than one man should endure," she chose her words carefully, deliberately boring into his eyes with her own - she was speaking of him as well. "And he went through it twice. In both cases, I am partly responsible."

Dylan sighed deeply, he though he knew where this was going. "And this latest event hit home, didn't it?"

"Yes. Even if he was unaware of what he was implying, by announcing his true connection to his ancestor I was forced to confront what I had denied to myself - my involvement in his suffering." Her voice raised an octave, she was visibly distraught. "The torture he was put through…it would not have happened without my _help_."

Dylan pushed away from his chair and walked towards her, reaching out and placing his hands on her shoulders. He stooped slightly so he could come level with her eyes.

"Trance, listen to me. I won't pretend to understand all the facts, or even a small part of whatever it is you're telling me. But I can tell you this. From what you _have_ told me, you had no choice. What you did needed to be done if we're to have any chance at surviving. And if what you said about my former First Officer's true motives is right," he was still having trouble getting his head around it himself, "Then I can tell you this: Gaheris Rhade would never have blamed you. And you know neither would Telemachus."

She looked down, nodding imperceptibly. "It's what I've told myself ever since. I've accepted it and I've tried to move on."

He heard the exception in her voice. "But…" he prodded.

"But Telemachus will not allow me to forget it. He thinks I'm keeping something from him, and he's right. He doesn't trust me, and he wants me to know it. For that reason I haven't been able to let go of the responsibility that has resurfaced."

Dylan searched her eyes, deciding to go with the obvious. "Then why not tell him?"

Her eyes snapped wide and she jerked back, out of his reach. "Dylan, he can't know. I can't tell him, and neither can you." The sense of urgency had returned to her words.

It was the Captain's turn to sound tired, worn. "Why not, Trance?"

She shook her head imperceptibly. "I can't tell you why, you wouldn't understand. I don't even think I fully comprehend the reasoning. But Rhade cannot know any of this. I've already told you more than I should have. If he finds out, there will undoubtedly be repercussions, and I cannot predict what those consequences will be, or in what direction they will steer the Universe. The others have blocked me from seeing that future, as punishment for my independent action."

Dylan could almost swear he saw fear in her eyes as she made that last statement, but he supposed for a being who was used to seeing all possibilities, that reaction was understandable. Slowly he stepped back toward her, his hands finding their place upon her shoulders once more, trying to comfort her and knowing full well he was failing miserably at it. He spoke softly. "Very well, if that's what you want, I won't say a word." He chose to ignore the comments about "others" and "punishment" for the time being, figuring he'd had enough mind-blowing revelations for one day.

She shot him a grateful look, but he wasn't done. "But Trance," his voice was decidedly more forceful than it had been before - he wanted her to remember that he was _supposedly_ in command here. "This stand-off isn't good for you, and it isn't good for him. So tell him, don't tell him, do whatever you want. But deal with it."

She nodded slowly. "I will." As an afterthought, and barely above a whisper, she added, "Thank you."

He didn't acknowledge the sentiment, believing she didn't want him to. Instead, he intoned, "Dismissed."

Her grateful look returned once more, and without out a word Trance exited the room.

As soon as the door slid shut behind her, Dylan sighed heavily and leaned back, using the desk as a brace. A million thoughts swarmed his consciousness, his mind running a light-year a minute. He didn't know what to think, and frankly _thinking_ was the last thing he wanted to be doing at this point. He closed his eyes and ran a hand over his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache starting to set in.

Of their own free will, his eyes roved the room until they found what they were looking for. Likewise, his body propelled him in the direction of the object, his hand reaching out to the frame once he was in reach.

_Maybe I_ did _know you as well as I thought,_ his mind spoke to the very serious image of Gaheris Rhade, standing next to his own laid-back demeanour. From the picture, one would never have guessed the human and the Nietzschean were so alike.

Suddenly, a somewhat familiar phrase broke through his thoughts, brought on by a memory of the relatively recent past.

"Every man is the hero of his own story…."

**

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To Be Continued...**


	20. Somewhere in the Middle

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I meant to get this out earlier, but I ran into some difficulties with it, and I'm still not completely satisfied. However I'm not sure how much more revision I can put it through without losing those few marbles I claim to have left, so I've decided to run with it. Hopefully it works with the rest of the story!

As always, my reviewers rock. Your compliments help fuel my poor, overworked muse, and your comments help me to figure out just where I need to focus my attention. Please continue to let me know how things are progressing, every little bit helps!

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* * *

PART NINETEEN - Somewhere in the Middle**

Rhade turned a corner down one of _Andromeda's _tunnel-like corridors and found himself walking in-step with the little engineer.

"Harper," he said by way of greeting.

"Rhade," he responded in kind, "What brings you to my not-so-little corner of infinite wisdom?"

The Nietzschean shook his head in exasperation at the short man's somewhat deserved ego and held out a flexi as they walked. "This."

Harper took it an glanced at it. "Ah, so you've moved up to errand boy!"

Rhade gave a low, involuntary growl. "They only sent me because I have the best chance of surviving when you're latest project goes horribly wrong and you destroy this section of the ship."

Had Harper been watching the Nietzschean's face, he would have seen the amusement there. Truth be told, Rhade was glad Harper was back to his insulting ways, it made him feel as if things were starting to return to normal. Ever since the incident a couple weeks ago, Harper and pretty much most of the people on the ship had been careful around him. He admitted he hadn't helped the situation much by disrespecting the Captain publicly and by his subsequent distant behavior - more so than usual. Still, it had bothered him.

Harper was also glad to have his verbal sparring buddy back, not just for the fun of it, but he had been generally concerned about his crewmate. He wouldn't dare admit it out loud, but he considered Rhade a friend, and the past few months had been terrible for him.

Over the last few days, however, he had sensed a change in Rhade. He was still moodier and more closed off than normal (if there _was _a normal for that guy), but he seemed as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. It were as if he was trying to finally put the whole thing behind him and move on, and likely he was. Harper thought it must be a Nietzschean thing - dwelling inhibits survival, yada yada, blah blah blah.

But if there had been any doubt as to the improved mental state of the resident Nietzschean senior officer, what happened next certainly went great lengths to quell any reservations.

As the two men came to a junction, Rhade moved to go in a separate direction, his delivery complete. Harper noticed out of the corner of his eye. Still looking down a the flexi - an approved schedule for his latest weapon design - he called out, "Thanks, Rockhead."

Rhade kept walking. "Just don't blow yourself up."

Just then, Trance rounded a corner and walked in his direction. "Telemachus, I trust you are well," she spoke as she passed.

The oddly warm greeting was enough to stop the engineer in his tracks, and he spun around to stare back at the two passing figures.

"I am, thank you. I'll see you this evening at the party," came the reply as the Nietzschean continued on his way. It wasn't nearly as cold or as distant as Harper and the rest of the crew had come to expect. In fact, it was damn friendly!

They both continued on their way as if it were a normal occurrence.

"What the…!"

Trance wore a mask of impassiveness as she approached her long-time friend. "Jaw shut, Harper," she said lightly as she walked by.

From further down the corridor, his back to them, Rhade couldn't help the grin that slowly spread across his features.

_-o-0-o-_

_Trance wandered about the artificial gardens, feeling at home in Hydroponics. When _Andromeda's_ hologram appeared to announce, "He's on his way," she merely nodded in silence, collecting her thoughts. It had been three days since her revelation to Dylan, and thinking was all she had been able to do. But now it was time to confront the issue. _

_It was several minutes later when Telemachus arrived, the door shutting just behind his back. He didn't venture any further into the room. "You wished to speak with me?" Right to the point._

_Trance turned around and took note of his formal, tensed stance. "We have to end this standoff," she told him, gently but forcefully._

_He inclined his head. "Very well." It was clear he was waiting for her to start - he obviously wasn't going to make it easy for her._

_"We can't function like this, our positions on this ship are too valuable."_

_"I agree."_

_She held his eyes for a moment before speaking, her words in earnest. "I have no issues with you, Telemachus. I wish you would just trust me."_

_Trance saw something flash across his face, something that gave her hope. He wanted to trust her, she was sure…but his nature was fighting him. And she could not begrudge him that - it was his very nature and her desire to preserve it that had landed her in this current mess in the first place. _

_When he said nothing, she sighed heavily and half-turned away, back to a row of plants to her left. "I can't tell you what you want to know, it's too complicated."_

_"Try me."_

_She pursed her lips and turned fully back to the plants. Gesturing to one in particular, she attempted a different tactic._

_"The Boterium-Rehnoid blossom - rare to find in artificial environments, even more rare in the wild, because it is not a naturally occurring species. It is a hybrid of the Botera flower and the Rehnum shrub, both from Sintii. Normally they aren't found at the same altitudes, so cross-pollination in the wild is almost unheard of. And because it's a hybrid, the Boterium-Rehnoid blossom can't reproduce. They're also very difficult to care for.But due to outside interference, in this case me, this plant blooms, and it is quite popular in Perseid estate gardens."_

_Rhade shook his head, more than a little annoyed. "You've lost me. What does this have to do with me?"_

_She turned back to him. "My point it this: the Boterium blossom relies on factors other than chance for its existence, its survival. But it doesn't know that."_

_He flashed her an exasperated expression. "Trance, it's a plant! Of course it doesn't know that. It doesn't know anything other than 'absorb nutrients, seek the sun, reproduce.'" He paused, reflecting briefly on her earlier words. "Although in this case, I suppose you could drop that last part."_

_She gave him one of her small, secretive smiles, despite the situation -it was quite possibly the longest sentence, medical issues aside, that he'd graced her with in the last several weeks. "Exactly. While I don't fully agree, plants are more aware than you might think, you are still right." She gestured to the plant, but refrained from stating his name - she doubted it would generate credibility. "This flower doesn't know that it relies on me for its existence; it can't, because it doesn't have the capacity to understand how the Universe pulls its strings."_

_Rhade believed he was finally understanding the relevance of the analogy, but he still wasn't satisfied, and she saw this. She continued. "Even if it were possible for him to understand a fraction of this, do you really think it would make a difference to the past and the future of the blossom?"_

_"The past? No." She had the feeling Rhade wasn't talking about the plant. "But what_ about _the future, Trance?"_

_It was a direct question, and she knew it. There was no point in beating around the bush any longer - no pun intended. She turned to him fully, taking a step forward._

_"Nothing I tell you could change the future - it is as it is, dependent on the past. Yes, sometimes futures can switch with one another, but that too requires a change in the past. And no man can do that on his own."_

_He held his position. "I still deserve to know, if it concerns me."_

_She decided to go for a partial truth. "It doesn't. It concerns your ancestor, Gaheris Rhade. And he has been dead for a long time now."_

_Rhade stiffened at the mention of his genetic predecessor, still a sore spot after more than two years. "He betrayed his people."_

_"He did what he thought was right for the Nietzscheans."_

_"He was Commonwealth,_ they _were his people."_

_Trance nodded slowly, a light glint in her eye. "So he was."_

_Rhade frowned, he felt as though he were missing something. In fact, he had felt that way throughout most of the conversation._

_She caught his attention once more. "Trust me when I say I would never intentionally do anything that could harm you or this crew in any way. I'm your friend, Telemachus." It was the truth, but she still felt guilty at playing on his emotions. He was in a delicate state these days, especially for a Nietzschean who was used to control._

_She could guess at the warring debate going on in his head. But it looked as if some of what she said got through to him, because the frown lessened, and it looked as though some of the weight on his shoulders had lifted. She had known before they had even started speaking - he wanted to end their standoff just as much as she did, but he could not simply give up._

_He caught her gaze and spoke in an open tone she hadn't heard directed her way in weeks. "I suppose I can accept that, I must. The Universe is like a hierarchical structure - we are all agents to do its bidding." Trance swore a ghost of a smile flitted across his features. "Some of us higher than others, privy to more information that most."_

_She gave him a knowing smile - trust a Nietzschean to adopt a military mindset. Slowly her grin widened, and in a joking manner she stated, "At least you can claim importance over the Boterium-Rehnoid."_

_The comment seemed to chase away the last of the tension as Rhade had to suppress a small grin. But she noticed its presence. "A redeeming quality for any potential wives, I'm sure."_

_Inwardly, Trance sighed in relief. She doubted the matter had been dropped completely, but she suspected he was more willing to let it go. Perhaps now he would actually talk to her. She didn't quite know how to broach the subject, so she decided to be straightforward - he might appreciate that, particularly now._

_"Rhade, there is something else we have to discuss. I've been ordered to--"_

_"Dylan ordered you to function as my counsellor," he stated for her. He knew it would happen eventually, and was actually a little surprised it had taken the good Captain this long._

_"Yes," she affirmed, not at all surprised that he had guessed their motives._

_"I'm sorry."_

_"For what?" she asked, concerned. She hoped she hadn't lost all progress before they'd even begun._

_But she needn't be worried when he gave her a small, almost forced grin. "No one should be so unfortunate as to be my shrink."_

_Her amused smile returned. "Why don't you let me be the judge of that."_

_He inclined his head and followed her to a bench on the far side of the room._

_-o-_

_They spend several hours talking. Once he finally opened up, Rhade discovered just how therapeutic it was to get his problems out in the open. He even discovered some issues he had been unaware of, lurking in the shadows of his mind._

_He felt safe speaking with Trance - she listened with ease, gave advice when needed, and he knew enough to know that she would keep it confidential - keeping secrets was, after all, a favorite pastime of hers. She also didn't judge. As a Nietzschean, Rhade was used to being judged on just about everything, had been for his whole life. For once, it was nice to be free from that burden._

_It was why he couldn't talk to anyone else. Sure, Dylan would listen, even had listened the day he had gone on a bit of a tangent, but Dylan was his Captain, his CO. It was his job to judge those under his command, whether he realized he was doing it or not. He couldn't speak with Beka, that wouldn't have worked at all - in the past he wouldn't have trusted her, and now she was a friend, she was too close. Harper was definitely out of the question - he was a friend, Rhade would grudgingly admit, but he didn't want sympathy, he wanted solutions, something he doubted the engineer could provide outside of the machine shop. As for Rommie or_ Andromeda _herself, yes she was sentient, but she was still a machine. And anyone currently onboard, outside the tight-knit group of senior officers, just wasn't worth considering._

_When they both decided to call it enough for one day, Rhade felt infinitely better. He wasn't naïve enough to believe all of his problems would miraculously go away overnight, or even a fraction of them, but it was a start._

_As they moved for the door, Trance had one more question. "How do you feel knowing we will be entering into formal negotiations with the Vyshiian in just a few days?"_

_He shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned, what happened had nothing to do with them. Wrong place, wrong time. I'm more worried about the impending boredom of the gala we're hosting for their elite the night before."_

_She saw the self-depreciating amusement cross his face. "I would have thought you'd be used to them, especially considering your former occupation."_

_"You_ never _get used to them."_

_"You sound like Beka," she commented, an idea forming in her mind._

_"Well, for once our dear First Officer might have a point."_

_They turned into the corridor as Trance made her suggestion. "Maybe you should accompany each other, then."_

_He kept walking, but turned to her with a wary glance. "Beka?"_

_She kept her gaze ahead, trying not to laugh. "You're friends, you could keep one another entertained enough to pass the evening without too much strain."_

_He looked forward, eyebrow raised, pondering the idea. "Perhaps…."_

_

* * *

_

**To Be Continued...**

I'll put this here because I didn't want to detract from the new chapter, and I apologize in advance if this offends anyone - but this is dedicated to all those who will boycott Survivor: Guatemala, whether you watch the show or not (I personally do not) on the grounds that they are letting the contestants live in actual Maya ruins for the sake of (supposed) entertainment - it is unethical and immoral (from ageneral standpoint, not just academically), and it is completely disrespectful. That is all.


	21. Pretence and Portent

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

I apologize for taking longer to post this chapter. However, I believe it is the longest to date, so hopefully that'll redeem me some. For those of you who were hoping for more Beka/Rhade interaction, I hope you'll be happy with this instalment, and I thank you for your patience (I, too, thought it was about time for some!). And once again I am honored by the reviews you guys have sent my way, and I hope you'll continue to do so, even if it's to tell me what I'm doing wrong (and if you have something to add on that particular note, please tell me, it's the only way I can get better!).

Once again, the inspiration for _Tarazada_ is Loreena McKennitt's _"Marco Polo."_

As always, any and all mistakes (barring QuickEdit's word-squish) are mine alone.

* * *

**PART TWENTY - Pretence and Portent**

Beka made her way to Rhade's quarters, pretending not to notice the stares from the various crewmembers. Yes, so she hated dressing up, but every once in awhile it was nice to know she could still make heads turn.

As she stepped through her friend's door, she saw the Nietzschean standing in front of a mirror. He wore black pants and a black long-sleeved shirt, and he was holding a black, more formal vest in one hand over his torso. After a few seconds, he brought up a deep red shirt similar to the one he currently had on and placed the vest overtop.

"Red," she ordered. "You're not going to a funeral."

He shook his head at his reflection and started to turn towards her. "Feels like it." He paused when he caught sight of her, giving her his patented smirk as he looked her up and down. "Although perhaps not anymore."

"Yeah, courtesy of Rommie, Trance, and the wardrobe of a generous female crewmember," she said, a little exasperated. The ship's AI was more of a girl than she was. But she had to admit, if the form-fitting, deep maroon dress, so dark it was almost to the point of being black, met with the approval of a perfectionist Nietzschean, then it had its redeeming aspects.

He held the red shirt/black vest combo up for her to see properly. "Definitely," she confirmed.

He nodded. "I agree." He laid the clothing on the nearby bed and went to pull the shirt he currently wore over his head.

Beka couldn't help but agree herself, but her agreement ran more towards that perfectionist Nietzschean mindset as she got a glimpse of his bare upper body. With a wince, she noted the lingering traces of scars marring the otherwise well-sculpted torso - but with any luck they would fade soon…she doubted they would serve as pleasant reminders. At least he looked a million times better than the last time she'd seen him without a shirt, when she'd cleaned some of his wounds in Medical, what seemed like ages ago. Had it only been seven weeks? He certainly healed fast - already the muscle mass he'd lost as a result of the ordeal and the recovery was beginning to show definition again.

As he tossed the shirt to the side and moved to pick up his chosen attire for the evening, she had to ask, "So what took you so long? We're supposed to be there already."

He moved to place the vest over the dark red fabric. "I was stuck in Command all afternoon, not all of us had the day to get ready."

She gave him an indulgent grin. "And you loved every minute of it."

He shrugged non-committally, but she saw the grin playing at the corners of his mouth. He smoothed the shirts over his torso once and looked up at her. "Ready?"

She raised her eyebrows. "That's it?"

He frowned. "What?" He believed himself to be presentable.

Beka couldn't help but feel a little resentful - if only Rommie's attentions had taken five minutes. But as she looked him over, she had to admit he looked fine - rather handsome, for a Nietzschean anyway. "Fix your hair."

He raised an eyebrow at the command. "My hair."

"Yep."

He turned to his reflection in the nearby mirror. He brought his arm up and briefly ran his fingers through the short, dark, understated and deliberately unruly spikes. As he lowered the hand, he could detect no difference from what was there before. He turned back around and held his hands up in askance.

"I approve," she declared, smiling. She turned and walked towards the door, and he followed, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Beka stopped in front of the closed door and waited, looking to him. He sighed and opened the door, gesturing for her to precede him. "After you."

She stepped across the threshold, wide grin plastered to her face. She took a few more steps then stopped, allowing him to catch up. When he did, he made an obvious show of offering her his arm. She lost her ability to hold in her laughter at that point as she took his arm. He too gave a light chuckle as they made their way to Obs deck.

"What have I gotten myself into?"

-o-

The party was in full swing when they arrived - crewmembers lucky enough to be off-duty at the time mingled with one another and their Vyshiian guests, about thirty of the newcomers in all. Scanning the room, they made their way over to the table Harper was holding.

About halfway to the table, they were intercepted by a familiar face. Ambassador Nané greeted them, his nervousness evident.

"Captain Valentine, you look lovely. Commander, I hope you are well?"

For a moment, Rhade had the inclination to let the Vyshiian sweat, solely for amusement, but quickly dismissed the idea. He gave the Ambassador a smile and held out his hand. "I am, thank you."

Believing himself out of immediate danger, Nané visibly relaxed, extending his own hand and giving the Nietzschean's a firm shake. He then turned to the elegantly dressed woman beside him. "My wife, Nané-Maniia, head of the Vyshiian economic sector."

This time Beka put her hand out first. "Beka Valentine." She shook the woman's hand.

Rhade followed suit. "Telemachus Rhade, out of Majorum by Rhade."

Maniia smiled warmly at both of them. "A pleasure. My husband speaks highly of your entire crew."

"Good to know we meet with the Ambassador's approval," Rhade said lightly, smiling again at the older man to prevent him from lapsing back into nervousness.

"Of course," Nané replied. "But if you would please excuse us, I believe your Captain Hunt requested a word."

"Of course," Beka answered, mildly amused. "Enjoy the party."

The couple gave them one last smile before moving off. Beka and Rhade resumed on their way to the table. As they navigated the throng of people, she couldn't help but take a shot.

"So I guess you _can_ be a socialite when necessary."

He shook his head. "Requirement of the job, once upon a time."

They arrived at the table just as Harper scampered off in the opposite direction, apparently having caught sight of a well-made female crewmember. They both laughed and sat down, glancing about the festivities.

"So I have to ask," Beka leaned forward. He turned his eyes on her. "The greeting you gave the chick, the one you give everyone. Is that a Tarazed thing? Because its different from what I've heard other Nietzscheans give."

He leaned back in his chair with a small grin, his eyes holding a far-away look. "No, the traditional greeting of the Nietzscheans is the one practiced on Tarazed."

She furrowed her brow. "Then…why?"

"Force of habit, really. It involves my genetic status." He was ready to leave it at that, but her look of genuine curiosity convinced him to elaborate. He leaned his arms on the table, thinking of how to explain.

"As I'm sure you're aware, I am believed to be the genetic reincarnation of Dylan's former First Officer, Gaheris Rhade." She nodded. "The origins of my Pride, Majorum, stem directly from that man - Gaheris Rhade _is_ Majorum.

"Normally a Nietzschean uses his mother and father in their greeting. But because of my unique position, it's a little more complicated. I have a mother, yes, and a father, but I also share the genetic make-up of the father of my Pride, the progenitor of my own line."

He paused a moment before going on, trying to decide how to explain his family's reasoning. "More than my own parents, I belong to Majorum. My identity is forever entwined to that of the Rhade line. For that reason, I need only show my association to my Pride and my family as a whole." He looked down and gave a short chortle. "At least that's what the Matriarch drilled into me when I was a boy. By now, it has become habit."

Beka sat back, the look of surprise on her face poorly masked. "Wow. Tough reputation to live up to."

He shrugged, muttering more to himself than to her, "Used to be." He flagged down one of the crew serving as hosts and grabbed a drink for both of them, sliding the second over to her.

She decided not to pry further, at least not directly. Instead, she asked, "So, does anyone else ask that? Or do most Nietzscheans just think you're off your rocker?"

He gave a small chuckle into his drink, removing the glass from his mouth only when he'd regained control over his lips. "Most Nietzscheans would probably acknowledge some significance, even if they didn't know what it meant. As for everyone else…most don't ask, and I don't usually bother to explain." He brought the flute back up, but hesitated before taking a sip. "You should know better than anyone that a little…_mystery_…makes things interesting."

She gave him a funny smile, aware of the way his eyes had briefly wandered away from her face as he'd made that last statement. "So why did you tell me?"

He put his drink down, face expressionless, and shrugged. "Why not?"

She imitated his shrug and turned to her own drink. They sat in companionable silence for awhile, listening to the music that had begun broadcasting across the deck, watching as some of the crew and a few of the Vyshiian staked out a makeshift dance floor.

At a certain point, however, Beka became restless and stood up, catching Rhade's attention. "Come on," she said, "Let's go 'mingle.'"

His only reply was to raise and eyebrow, obviously not wanting to comply.

She rolled her eyes. "This whole thing was _your_ idea."

"Actually, it was Trance's."

"Trance? …Never mind. Let's go." She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet.

Reluctantly, he acquiesced and stood up. He lightly placed a hand on her back as they once again entered the sea of people.

It wasn't long before they found Dylan and Rommie, both dressed in their Commonwealth finest, looking in on the festivities.

"Well Dylan, it looks like our guests are enjoying themselves," Beka greeted once they were closer.

"Why Beka, I do think you're right," he answered jovially, glad all seemed to be going well. The Vyshiian were still a little concerned about the current state of the new Commonwealth, and he hoped to ease their minds a little tonight before they entered into negotiations in the morning. Their side needed all the support they could get.

"With an attitude like that, you'd think he pulled it off all by himself," Rommie joked pointedly at her Captain.

Rhade smiled at the avatar. "An excellent effort, Rommie."

She returned the smile and spoke deliberately, "Thank you." Dylan shook his head in amusement, but said nothing.

Just then, Trance appeared with a decidedly less-than-happy Harper in tow.

"What's with you?" Beka prodded.

"Harper struck out again," Trance answered matter-of-factly.

"Hey, hey, hey!" he held his hands up in defence. "The game ain't over, alright? I just need to chance my approach a little, then she'll come around."

That earned poorly suppressed grins from everyone but the engineer himself, and a "Good luck with that," from Beka. He shot her an annoyed look.

"Completely reversing your approach might prove more effective," Rhade supplied sarcastically.

"Captain Hunt," a Vyshiian called out as he approached, halting any insulting comeback from leaving Harper's mouth for fear of having to receive the old 'Diplomatic Incident' speech again. "An excellent evening. May I please have a word?"

"Governor Koskaiia, of course," Dylan replied. He turned to his senior officers. "Excuse me."

The rest of them stood around for a few moments longer before Rhade turned to Beka. "Okay, you've mingled, can we go and sit back down now?"

She gave him an innocent look. "What, and offend our friends?"

He hung his head slightly and sighed, not liking her game. "They can come with us."

"So you guys actually did it?" Harper asked, catching their attention. "You came together?" He sounded rather surprised, and looked a little shocked.

"What's wrong with that?" Beka challenged, getting defensive.

Harper sighed, looking like he's just lost a bet. "Nothing."

Trance turned to him and grinned. "Pay up."

"What?" Beka asked in disbelief.

"Trance!" Rhade demanded. "It was your idea in the first place!"

Harper turned on his long-time friend, jaw dropping and glare accusing.

The golden avatar didn't appear phased in the least. "We made the bet after I suggested it, and it merely involved whether Beka would agree or not. I had no control over the outcome whatsoever."

"I can confirm that," Rommie affirmed, moving closer to the group. "Completely fair."

Trance turned to Harper. "Don't try to deny it."

He simply shook his head, dejected. "Whatever. I'll pay you later." He turned his annoyed expression on Beka, clearly blaming her for this.

"You people are insufferable," Rhade muttered, earning laughter from all of them, including Beka.

Harper leaned over to Rommie and Trance rather conspiratorially, but making sure to speak loudly enough to be heard over the music. "I did lose my money, but I suppose it's a good thing. I mean, who would have thought, Rhade and Beka."

The identical stares of disbelief that the comment earned from the two people in question was comical enough that the two avatars and the engineer had trouble keeping their composure. He was winding them up and they knew it, but still they reacted.

Rommie decided to get in on the fun. "They do make a cute couple, don't they?" Beka and Rhade both silently cursed the engineer not just for his new game, but for creating an android with the capability of grinning mischievously.

"I think so," Trance answered. Oddly enough, her comment carried the faintest hint of sobriety, but it was lost in the friendly banter of the group.

Beka turned to her friend. "Well Telemachus, perhaps we should give them something to joke about. I feel like dancing."

He shook his head. "I don't dance."

She shot him an exasperated sigh. "I've _seen_ you dance." And he was good, partly the reason why she suggested it.

He held up his hands in protest. "That's different."

Harper couldn't resist. "Ooh, that bad? Do tell, Boss." Rhade narrowed his eyes at the little man, who held up his hands in defence. "Take it easy, flyboy. You really gotta learn to relax, Rhade!"

A laughing voice broke from behind the group. "Oh please, the Admiral never could relax, especially when surrounded by all us _inferior_ folk."

The group spun around and took in the sight of a young man with short blond hair, about average height, with a beaming smile directed at the Nietzschean.

The Nietzschean in question shook his head at let out a light chortle. "Alexander," he greeted, holding out his hand. The other man grasped it firmly.

Beka raised an eyebrow, not realizing she was imitating her friend's trademark. "Aiken, you're from Tarazed?" She was once again reminded of how little she knew their new crew, even after so many months - what she got for only being with the same handful of people for years at a time.

Alexander Aiken nodded. "Born and raised." He gestured to Rhade. "I met this one my first year at the Home Guard Academy…been saving his ass ever since."

Rhade shot him a rather indulgent look. "I'm sure."

There was a brief pause, but before it became uncomfortable Rhade asked his old friend, "I trust your latest mission was a success?"

"Mission?" Harper asked, getting back into the conversation.

"Lieutenant Aiken has been on extended leave from the _Andromeda_," Rommie supplied. "He was attempting to…_feel out_ our current standing on Tarazed."

"Just got back in time for the party," he answered with a grin.

"And what did you learn?" Trance piped up for the first time.

"Oh come on, this is a party," Beka complained, "Shop talk later."

"Couldn't have said it better, ma'am."

"And you can drop that, too, Aiken," she warned in a friendly tone.

"Yes ma'am." She just rolled her eyes.

Aiken turned to Rhade, suddenly more serious. "So Tel...I, uh, I heard what happened while I was gone. I'm sorry."

"Don't worry," Rhade quickly answered, not wanting to put a damper on the festivities. "I managed to make it out on my own this time."

The other man nodded, saying more with his eyes than he did when he spoke next. "That you did."

Beka turned to the others. "Maybe we should --"

"No need," the Lieutenant spoke up, once again his beaming self. "I left a lovely young lady over there I should really get back to. Ladies, gentlemen…and Telemachus."

Rhade's voice held humour in it when he ordered, "Get out of here, Alex."

The crewman gave them all one last smile and promptly disappeared into the crowd.

"Well there goes a very friendly man," Beka observed.

"Commander Aiken is like that with everyone, always has been."

"Commander?" Harper asked, hoping for the opportunity to insult Rhade's intelligence.

"Lieutenant," he corrected. "Old habits. Alexander was a commander under my charge in the Home Guard, he was by my side at my promotion to Admiral." _And I owe him more than my life,_ Rhade added silently, briefly glancing back at the place where his friend had been moments before, _I owe him my sanity._

"Oh." The engineer sounded disappointed. He perked up, however, as something caught his eye. "Excuse me," he said as he all but dashed off. Apparently he'd found his earlier object of attention.

At that moment Dylan returned and started a conversation that quickly caught Rhade's attention, along with Trance and Rommie. Beka, however, had her thoughts elsewhere as a plan began to form in her head.

"I'll be back in a minute," she stated, not really believing anyone had heard her.She walked into the throng of socializing crew and diplomats, on a mission.

Rhade had heard her words, and out of the corner of his eye he followed her, a little surprised when he saw her meet back up with Alex Aiken and the woman who was apparently his date for the evening. Something his Captain mentioned gathered Rhade's attention, and when he glanced back, she had turned and appeared to be walking back toward them, a triumphant smile on her face; Aiken himself was headed in the opposite direction, toward a wall display. Rhade was concerned, to say the least.

Beka was only a few feet away and closing in on her friends' position when suddenly the music playing throughout the make-shift hall changed to something decidedly different, catching the attention of all in attendance. The Vyshiian and the rest of the crew were slightly confused when cheers and applause rose out form those formerly from the planet Tarazed.

Rhade himself wore a mix of amusement and embarrassment as Beka reached them and pulled on his arm. "Let's go, _Admiral_."

He sighed, but followed her nonetheless as their friends looked on in a mix of mild amusement and slight disbelief. A crowd of people had gathered on the dance floor, scrambling into pairs, not caring if they actually knew their partner or not - Tarazed was the only link they needed for this moment. Many unfamiliar with what was going on made a hasty retreat, and only the very few bold enough to attempt to bumble their way through remained.

From somewhere in the gathering crowd, Rhade heard his old friend's voice call out a command, just as the music was cut mid-beat and started from the beginning. He should have known this would happen - his _date_ was as sneaky as they came. On the next defining beat, the various couples began in unison, raising their forearms up to one another. Rhade and Beka locked eyes, and followed suit with the others.

-o-

Away from the dancers, the senior officers of the _Andromeda Ascendant_, minus two, watched - amazed - as a large number of their crew suddenly began moving in synch.

"What the hell is that?" Harper exclaimed, rejoining his friends.

Just then, Ambassador Nané found them. "Captain Hunt, I must say this is a pleasant surprise. Your crew is certainly well disciplined!"

Dylan just gave a look of mild disbelief. "I wish I could claim credit, Ambassador." He had seen this performance only once, on his first visit to Tarazed. But because of the celebrations, he had assumed it was just a large professional dance troupe, and certainly not a host of regular citizens.

"It's a traditional dance from Tarazed," Rommie informed them. "It dates from approximately two-hundred forty-six years ago, a significant part of their culture."

"Oh yeah?" Harper asked, still stunned, "Then how come Beka's out there?"

Rommie chose not to answer. Instead, they all joined the crowd in watching the display, indeed noting that Beka was fairing just as well as the others with Rhade as her partner…in fact, they were better than some. They also began to understand the excitement that had sprung from the Tarzayans only moments before - it certainly _looked_ like fun.

-o-

It was over all too quickly for both the dancers and their audience, and after the applause had died down, the previous music selection had resumed. Beka looked to her partner, a large grin shaping her features. "Well there you go...dancing - what's better for a fun party?"

"And as I said- this was a different scenario."

She noted his genuine smile, and as she made a show of linking her arm in his as they moved away from the crow, she couldn't help but tell him, "Never say I wasn't a fun date."

He just shook his head as they began to make their way back, his smile widening. "Never."

-o-

Nané turned to Dylan again. "Very impressive."

The Captain wasn't sure what to say. "Well, thank you…."

"I must say again that I am looking forward to our negotiations tomorrow."

"As are we, Ambassador."

Nané nodded vigorously. "And I hear the Makaei leaders are also very excited at the prospect of an alliance."

"_What_?" demanded a male voice. They spun around and came face to face with a very confused and suspicious Nietzschean. "The Makaei are a part of these negotiations? Since when?"

Dylan sighed, frustrated. Ambassador Nané looked decidedly anxious and a little frightened. After a moment of awkwardness, Dylan stepped forward and put an arm on Rhade's shoulder. "Come on."

The Nietzschean shrugged off the arm, but followed his Captain. The others watched them go, concern for the well-being of their Captain evident on their faces.

They stepped out into the corridor. "I was going to tell you, after."

"After what?" he demanded. "After they sat down across from me at the table?"

Dylan sighed. "After the banquet. I only received confirmation of their attendance an hour ago, just before I arrived. Apparently tensions between the Vyshiian and the Makaei have cooled off, they want a partnership, and that means equal opportunity in these talks."

Rhade glared at him. "And you couldn't have spared a minute to tell me this yourself? You didn't even mention the possibility, I don't care if you only found out _for sure_ an hour ago."

Dylan looked at his officer, noting that he didn't appear to be genuinely angry, but more disappointed. "Perhaps that was an oversight on my part."

"Really." Rhade folded his arms.

"Honestly?" Dylan began, "I didn't quite know how you'd react, Rhade."

"I don't have a problem with them being here, _Captain_," he shot back - it wasn't a _complete_ lie - perhaps emphasizing the last word a little too much, "If that is what you are implying. But I do with the fact that you apparently have no faith in _me._" Dylan started to respond, but Rhade interrupted him to add, "You also said you would refrain from lying to me again."

The quiet, calm comment stopped any flow of words Dylan Hunt had lined up to pass through his lips. He knew he was within his rights to reprimand the Nietzschean for insubordination, but he knew Rhade was right, also…only realizing now what his actions must have come across as. "I'm sorry. I know I've been treating you differently these days, despite our last conversation. But it _is_ my job to ensure the well-being of my officers, stubborn Nietzscheans included."

Rhade let out his breath slowly as he looked down. The fight was gone from his body. He didn't want this anymore. "I understand, Captain. But please - my well-being is fine, honestly."

Dylan wasn't fully positive about that one, but he didn't want to argue when Rhade was apparently so willing to drop the matter. He had guests to see to. Instead, he nodded. "I trust you, Rhade, don't worry about that."

Without waiting, Dylan turned on his heel and re-entered Obs deck. Rhade stood there awhile longer, and eventually heard someone approach. He looked up and saw Beka watching him.

"I didn't know for sure, so I didn't say anything."

Rhade shook his head. "I don't care about that." He looked past her at the people socializing beyond the door. "I'm sorry, but I think I'm gonna go for a walk."

He started to turn when he heard her voice. "Want company?"

He looked back, and that's when she saw it. He wasn't really angry or depressed, he just looked…tired.

Hesitating a moment, he then shrugged, which she took for a yes. Moving to catch up, together they started down the labyrinth-like corridors of the ship.

-o-

Not much was said on their trek, they simply walked in companionable silence. After awhile, though, they both agreed to call it a night. Arriving at the quarters Beka kept on the _Andromeda_, they stopped at her door.

"Well it certainly was an _interesting_ evening," she commented.

"Indeed."

She looked at him. "Are you going to be okay for tomorrow?" It was the first thing she'd said regarding the incident since they'd left Obs deck.

He nodded. "It won't be an issue."

"Good to know," she turned to her door.

"Beka," he called, causing her to turn back. Before she could ask what was up, he spoke again. "Thank you."

She didn't have to ask further. "No problem."

Surprise followed her last statement as she felt him gently take her hand and bring it up level to his chin, lightly brushing his lips across the skin in a chivalrous manner. "Good night." He let go and turned around, moving away from her quarters.

Unsure if she should say or do anything, Beka simply watched him go, puzzled.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	22. Thought Processing

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Once again I can't thank my reviewers enough for their encouraging words. Glad to know I'm doing something right! And please, if I'm _not_, do tell. Any and all mistakes (QE word-squish aside) are mine alone.**

* * *

**

**PART TWENTY-ONE - Thought Processing**

Rhade sat up straight, but his eyes were downcast, focusing on the table. When he had arrived to the meeting room that afternoon, the day after the gala in Obs, he'd subconsciously chosen the seat farthest away from Katoka-Moyae, the Ambassador sent by the Makaei government, and his aide, not realizing at the time that it put the Ambassador directly in his line of vision.

The whole time he'd been half-listening to the negotiations between the two Drift nations and Dylan's independent Commonwealth - what the crew and anyone loyal had taken to calling the _true_ Commonwealth. But in his own head he had been trying to quiet his irrationality.

He knew the Makaei were not bad people, at least not the ones they were currently negotiating with. The evidence had been fairly straightforward - the ones who had initially attacked him, taken him, and sold him to Colis had been glorified bounty-hunters who just happened to be of the same species as the two people on the other side of the table. That was it, they posed no threat - that's what he knew in his mind.

But it was the little voice of his thoughts, the one cultivated through centuries of selective breeding and enhanced by his own beliefs, that told him otherwise. It whispered to him, trying to convince the rational part of him of the adage - once a threat, always a threat. They couldn't be trusted.

If truth be told, Rhade honestly couldn't remember much about the exact moment he had been taken. All he could really recall was that he had been stalking through the streets of the drift, lost in his own thoughts (an error that would constantly taunt him for the rest of his Nietzschean existence). He had wandered into a low traffic area and had promptly met with some sort of stunning weapon, and after that he couldn't really make out any of the details, save for the echoing of pain and the knowledge that he was helpless, unable to fight back. There had been little contact with the Makaei captors after that - hearing them only, never seeing - and then he'd been moved to his next place of captivity.

But it was the voice, the distinctive Makaei way of enunciation, that reminded him now, as he sat in diplomatic relations with them. And it was enough to kick his survival instincts into overdrive. He surreptitiously practiced several breathing exercises as the negotiations carried on around him, calming his nerves just enough to ensure he wasn't fidgeting in an obvious manner. Never let anyone know you were not in complete control, not even friendlies.

They broke for an informal lunch, and in the sudden bustle of delegates and senior crewmembers, Rhade managed to slip through the door and out into the corridor, unnoticed.

Almost.

"Rhade, are you alright?"

He turned quickly and took note of the android's approach, cursing silently. It was precisely the question he had been hoping to avoid, the one he'd heard all too often over the past several weeks. He supposed he should be happy that they were showing concern for his well-being, indicating they were truly his friends, but it didn't negate the fact that he was past the point of annoyance - enough was enough, already.

"Of course, Rommie," he answered, trying his best to sound sincere.

"You know," she continued, ignoring his impatient eye roll, "He wouldn't mind if you excused yourself now. He really just required your initial presence to assure the Vyshiian and in particular the Makaei."

"Well thank you, Rommie, for that endearing insight."

While he sounded serious, the android was able to detect enough of a lit to his voice to determine that he was joking. Or, at least not completely offended.

"Yes, well," she replied, "On several occasions I have seen your overtures of diplomacy." With a small grin to show her comment was in jest, she added, "I'm quite surprised at the prosperity of Tarazed with you as an Admiral."

The corners of his mouth upturned ever so lightly, the reaction she had wanted. "The only thing of value I learned from the fool of a man who had the job before me can be summed up in one word - delegate."

She shot him a conspiratorial smile. "Why do you think I keep twenty-two androids fully functional at all times, even with a sizeable crew?"

He shrugged. "Exactly." His eyes roved the corridor plating for a moment before returning to her. "I'm fine, I just wanted a break from the formalities. Like you said, diplomacy is not my forte. You can tell him I'll make my way back inside in a few minutes. Let the Ambassadors eat in peace without fearing I'll leap across the table and come after them."

Rommie struggled to keep a straight face and nodded. "Enjoy your respite, Commander." She left and re-entered the negotiating room to see to her guests.

Rhade sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. He would enjoy every second of it.

-o-

Dylan Hunt nodded to the group seated around the table in front of him. "So in response to Ambassador Moyae's generous offer of a full restock of munitions for seven of the New Commonwealth's cruisers, the Makaei shall be recognized as official friends of our side, and when the reconciliation of Tarazed comes to fruition," no one needed to mention the implied destruction of the ring of so-called 'impostor' Collectors, "The _Andromeda Ascendant _and her crew shall ensure the Makaei are recognized as an ally of the Commonwealth."

Ambassador Moyae inclined his head, smiling. "So it is agreed. _Sintakaei_."

The aide, who stood behind his seated employer and slightly to the left, repeated the ritualistic word. "_Sintakaei_." It was a rough equivalent to a blessing, said by the Makaei when they were truly pleased and wished for continued success. The meaning had come up shortly after they'd taken to their lunch recess.

Dylan smiled brightly as he heard their coveted word. "Good! Now, Ambassador Nané," he began, turning to the Vyshiian representative, "I believe you had some concerns regarding Makhoiian Drift you wished to discuss?"

Rhade had only been half listening for the last half hour, since the meeting had resumed. His small break had been successful, the little warning voice had been quieted…or at least suppressed. His lack of attention to the diplomatic negotiations now stemmed from sheer boredom, following the conversation just enough to nod or add the odd bit of input at appropriate times to reflect well on his Captain.

That was, until he'd heard the Makaei ambassador spout the strange word in his own native tongue. His head had shot up in surprise at the familiarity of the saying, but he couldn't place where he'd heard it. He was also mildly surprised that no one else in the room appeared confused by the new language. Dylan almost seemed pleased.

Rhade was quickly set to let the matter drop, but a few seconds after it was first said, the aide behind the ambassador repeated that same sound. That's when it all came flooding back.

_-o-0-o-_

_The Nietzschean was angry. He thought back to the recent conversation on the _Maru_ with his human crewmate. He was angry at Beka's stubbornness, he was angry at her view of his people - partly because, in some respects, it was correct. Sure, some of it was stereotypical propaganda, in part reinforced through some of the dregs of his species, but some words of negativity had been close to actuality. But most of all, he was angry at his anger. That woman had the ability to test his patience and his temper like few people could._

_Rhade stalked the dark streets of the Drift, either not realizing or not caring when he passed a notice that he was entering the Makaei sectors. His thoughts were elsewhere so that he didn't acknowledge the sound of footsteps as a possible threat. At least until it was too late._

_He felt something small hit him between his shoulder blades, but before he could even think of reacting, a violent current of energy coursed through his body, using his spinal cord as a conduit to his central nervous system, and from there flooding through every inch of him. He dropped heavily to the ground within seconds. After an eternity the jolt stopped and left the Nietzschean male feeling like he was going to be sick._

_The first thing that came to him was the sound of those footsteps - ignored before but painfully obvious now. They were louder, closer and more numerous. He heard them stop, and he knew he had been surrounded. He had enough sense to put and arm up to stop the first violent kick, aimed at his stomach, but his sense were incapacitated, overloaded, and his reflexes were shot to hell. He couldn't stop the onslaught of brutal kicks and punches that attacked his dead weight. There were at least three attackers, more likely four, who would not let up._

_Rhade attempted to fight back, his survivalist instincts kicking in and giving him more strength than any other might have had. But it was not enough, and he grew weaker with each successive blow._

_Teetering on the edge of unconsciousness, his mind, looking to protect itself, reached out to embrace the darkness. Slowly his tensed muscles began to relax. His assailants must have realized he'd reached his breaking point, because the strange words emanating from one of the attackers pierced the foggy haze surrounding his thoughts, and he had enough sense to realized they command had led to the cessation of blows._

_Rhade's mind slipped deeper and deeper into itself. Before all sense finally left him, he felt rather than saw the multiple hands grip his battered body and drag him up, carrying him a short distance before tossing him none-to-gently to some kind of metal grating. A few of the attackers remained, hands holding him down just in case, as a slight jolt gave him the sensation that they were moving._

_The last thing that entered his mind before completely succumbing to the encroaching shadows was the sound of the attackers, their happy, proud voices. One of them began a toast, which was chorused by the others._

_"_Sintakaei!_"_

-o-0-o-

Luckily no one had been paying much attention to the quiet Nietzschean, and so when his eyes went side and his breath stuck in his throat as the memory resurfaced, no one really paid any attention…at least not openly.

After relating her conversation with Rhade at the recess to Dylan, the Captain had told Rommie to keep an eye on the Lieutenant Commander to ensure everything was alright. He doubted the man would appreciate the special attention, but Dylan didn't particularly care. He was responsible for both his officer's well-being and the success of the negotiations, hopefully not having to compromise either in the process.

Rommie's gaze turned on the Nietzschean. She detected a sudden elevation in pulse and respiration rates, and the several millimetres of expanded surface area of his pupils. It was a marked contrast to his previous, relative calmness.

"Sorry to interrupt, Ambassador," Rommie looked to Nané, who paused and nodded politely. She turned to Dylan. "Captain Hunt, Lieutenant Varos needs help dealing with a situation on the bridge."

Dylan looked to his friend and advisor, and noted the slight shake of her head. It took him a few seconds to realize what she was implying. "Right." He turned to look further down the table. "Mr. Rhade, can you see to Command?"

Rhade's head shot back toward the Captain and the Ship's Avatar, and it was obvious he was deciphering the change in conversation only now. He glanced briefly between the two, a hint of suspicion crossing his features, but nonetheless answered in the affirmative, "Of course, Captain."

Dylan was silent as he watched the Nietzschean quickly stand and move briskly from the room, head down - like he couldn't wait to get out of there. From the periphery of his vision he noted the mild confusion on the faces of his guests, but correctly suspected they would refrain from comment.

As an afterthought, the Captain turned to Rommie. "Will Lieutenant Commander Rhade be able to deal with this issue on his own?"

"Possibly," she nodded slowly, "Although I suggest some aid, just in case."

"Thank you, Rommie," he replied, then immediately turned and sought out Trance among those still seated.

He was about to tell her to go help when he caught the small shake of her head. He frowned slightly, a little surprised that she seemed to know what was going on, but even more so at the small inclination of her head, toward the only other _Andromeda _crewmember remaining at the table. He was skeptical, but not about to go against the recommendation of the closest thing he had to a counsellor on board.

"Beka," he caught her attention, forgetting decorum for a moment.

The pilot in question looked up, clearly unsure about what was going on around her. She gestured to the door questioningly, and he nodded. Beka used the table to push herself up, looking to either ambassador while doing so. "Excuse me," she spoke apologetically, then went for the door.

Dylan waited until the door closed behind her before speaking. "So," he said a little too excitedly, but successfully gaining the attention of the delegates, "Shall we continue?"

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	23. Objects in Motion

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Meant to get this out earlier, but I had a series of events over the weekend (both good and bad) that made life a little hectic, and so here it is - hope you enjoy it!

* * *

**PART TWENTY-TWO - Objects in Motion…**

At a brisk pace, Rhade had managed to travel several corridors before the ship's AI could catch him on a nearby screen. She called out for him to stop.

He did so, and looked at the personification of _Andromeda _questioningly.

"There is no situation in Command. Lieutenant Varos is in complete control."

The Nietzschean looked down and sighed in exasperation, muttering, "I suspected as much." The AI remained on screen, her face as impassive as ever. He looked back up. "You were monitoring me," he accused defensively.

She didn't refute the statement, but only said, _"You were becoming agitated."_

He glared back. "I suppose my presence is no longer required in the negotiations?"

Unfazed, _Andromeda's_ only reply was an informative _"No."_

Rhade shook his head and looked away, far from happy with the day's events. "Leave me be."

"Very well."

The screen blanked, and Rhade was left alone in the quiet corridor. He slowly leaned his back against the bulkhead, sighing deeply as he did so. He tried his best to get his autonomic responses under control - he hated the feeling of being helpless to the whims of the unconscious portions of his body. It wasn't him. The last time he could remember being such a slave to his own body, to his mind, had been more than three years ago, and those had been extenuating circumstances, way beyond his control, and vastly different from what he faced now.

He didn't understand. The situation was over, done, dealt with - why couldn't he forget and move on? If he was truthful with himself, he could acknowledge that he was in fact slowly getting over his imprisonment…but not nearly fast enough.

But then again, what was "fast enough" for a proud Nietzschean?

He thoughts were broken by a familiar voice.

"Hey." He looked up to see Beka approaching. She looked slightly concerned. "_Andromeda_ filled me in."

_Great,_ he thought._ Just what I need._

Beka moved closer, and it was clear by her body language that she wasn't sure what to do. "You…uh…you wanna talk, or something?"

He looked at her with an expression of annoyance. But it was then that he truly saw her through his self-doubting eyes, and that he realized she only wanted to help. There was no pity there. It was also in that moment that he realized just having a friend there calmed him. Perhaps he should take her up on her offer - if nothing else, he could use the time to work at getting back control of his internal responses.

His expression of annoyance slowly melted into on of genuine, in not disillusioned, appreciation. "Okay."

-o-

They eventually arrived at Rhade's quarters. Along the way he had begun to open up, to tell her what was truly wrong. Much of it was similar to what he had been speaking to Trance about, but he was mildly surprised to find additional relief in speaking to Beka.

He found it rather odd, to say the least. But, he had to remind himself, there were two faces to his human friend - the tough, cocky, independent pilot she showed to everyone, and the more compassionate, understanding woman she only let show to her closest friends. In the back of his mind he felt honoured to have been included in that second group, now that he recognized that elite membership as he currently witnessed this second face.

Beka followed him across the threshold and deeper into the room. Rhade absently sat down on the side edge of his precisely made bed, and Beka moved to sit beside him. She turned to face him, curling one leg close and letting the other dangle to the floor. Rhade himself continued to stare ahead at the wall.

"What happened in there today?" Beka asked gently. For all his talking, it was something that hadn't been mentioned yet, not directly. She figured now was as good a time as any to broach the subject.

Rhade didn't flinch - he'd been expecting that question for some time now. He just shook his head. "I don't know. Something the Makaei said triggered a memory, and I just lost myself." He hung his head. "I don't know why this is happening. I'm always in control, I've always been able to govern my reactions and responses. My people _need_ to know we can count on our own selves to listen and do as we command."

She gave him a small grin. "Hey, you Nietzscheans aren't the only ones who hate feeling out of control. I can tell you from personal experience that humans can't stand it, either. You probably couldn't find anyone who could…except maybe the Magog."

That last comment earned her a sharp chortle. "My point is," she continued, "It happens to the best of us. But we all get through it, and so will you - it might just take a little longer, Nietzschean stubbornness and all that."

He laughed quietly in amusement, glad for her lightness in tone. He needed a respite from the sombre direction of the conversation right about now. He turned his head in her direction, just barely able to see her out of his peripheral vision. "You have a way of making things appear easier than they are."

She grinned and placed a hand on the shoulder nearest to her, patting it gently. "Yeah, well, take it while you can. Most of the time I prefer to be the opposite."

He allowed a small upturn of his lips at her comment. "So I've noticed."

She flashed him a mock-shocked expression and raised her hand from his shoulder, intending to give him a playful smack. The Nietzschean reacted quickly, however, and grabbed her wrist, firmly but gently, in mid-air. It was then he finally looked at her directly, his smile matching her own.

They focussed on each other for several long moments, expressions dissolving into unreadable masks. Without realizing it, Rhade had slid his grip down from her wrist ever so slightly so that her hand was enveloped in his. As if coming to a decision (one that his conscious mind really had no say in at all), he finally leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers.

The kiss was both intense and chaste, passionate yet gentle, lasting for what seemed like an eternity. When he pulled away from her, however, he noted her confused, slightly apprehensive demeanour.

Rhade put a few more inches between them and looked down. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't…." He trailed off as he felt Beka grab a firm hold of the front of his shirt. He looked back up for only a moment before he was pulled back to her warm, inviting lips.

Beka's hand moved from its spot on his chest and wound under his arm and back up to grab at his shoulder, effectively pinning him to her, as she kissed his lips in a deliberate, unhurried manner. Her other arm fell back behind her on the bed, acting as a support as she leaned back and pulled him with her, gradually diminishing the distance between her back and the covers.

Rhade allowed her to set the pace, giving in to his Nietzschean instincts and to his desire to prolong the moment for as long as he could. When she sought entrance to his mouth he granted it, and returned in kind, all the while realizing that they were becoming increasingly horizontal. He placed a supporting hand under her back to hold her against him, at the same time using his other as a prop on the mattress beside her. Sensing she no longer needed to provide the support herself, Beka took her hand from behind herself and ran her fingers through his short, dark hair.

They made the transition to the bed without parting their lips. Beka was on her back, while Rhade was at an odd angle above her, slightly to his side. The hand he'd been using to support them, now free, came up to grasp the hand she had on his shoulder, fingers entwining beside her. He was content to carry out at this pace for eternity, but did not object when her kisses increased in intensity. But still, neither felt a need to rush.

Beka's free hand had moved to his shoulder and solid bicep, and slowly had worked its way down. Then it reached his forearm. She stopped suddenly as her hand encountered the first bone blade, realization about what she was doing and who she was doing it with came crashing down on her. She pulled her lips away and turned her head, not saying a thing.

He hadn't noticed her momentary look of panic, and mistook her increased heart rate for anticipation - it had, after all, been increasing steadily as they began this interaction, just as his had. Thinking she wanted his attentions elsewhere, he resumed his kisses on her now-exposed neck and the top of her shoulder.

Meanwhile, Beka was fighting an internal battle, one part of her mind versus the other.

_You vowed to stay away from all things Nietzschean from now on._

_A little late for that._

_All he cares about is himself, it's what they _all_ care about. _

_You know that's a lie, he's not like that._

_You barely know him._

_You know a hell of a lot more about him than others from your past. And above all, you know you _want_ him._

She couldn't argue with the rational part of her brain. Only now did she realize it, but this _was_ something she wanted. That, along with the increasing pleasure his caresses were bringing to her, won over her hesitation and she returned to the present. She squeezed the hand she held and ran her other fingers lightly over the bone blade of his forearm once more, reassuring herself that this was the right thing. Then she turned back into his kisses, meeting his lips with hers once more.

They continued on like that for some time, content to enjoy the pleasures their lips bestowed upon one another. They had parted their entwined fingers and Beka was now running her palm along his back, while his thumb lightly massaged her hip as he rested his hand against her side.

Rhade had lost almost all coherent thought when she began kissing him. He had felt the growing attraction, had realized he cared, as they spent more and more time together over the past several weeks. But he hadn't realized the depths of the feelings he had for her; he cared more for her than any other woman he had ever known.

Before his mind even had a chance to register what was going on, his lips had spoken words he didn't even know were there, whispering against her own. "_I love you_."

His words managed to penetrate her foggy brain, and suddenly the alarm bells were back, blaring even louder than before throughout her head. Her eyes snapped open and she quickly broke the kiss, this time her abrupt actions leaving no room for his misinterpretation. She pushed against his chest and sat up, quickly moving off the bed.

Rhade maintained his position stretched out, leaning on his elbows, and watched her from the periphery of his line of sight. He didn't move, didn't say anything, realizing he'd just screwed up royally.

Beka had headed for the door as soon as she stood up, but about halfway there she paused and took a few steps back toward him. She stopped again, looked to the door, then back, clearly unsure of what to do.

"I…uh…" she could tell he was watching her, waiting for her decision, even though he was facing away. "I'm sorry," the words rushed from her mouth. "I…." Deciding against saying any more, she shook her head quickly, clearing her mind, and moved briskly to the door without looking back.

Upon hearing the door shut behind her, Telemachus let the arm he'd been leaning on collapse underneath him, dropping him fully to the bed. He sighed in defeat. It had been a stupid move, quite possibly the worst he'd ever made. But of which move "it" was, that he wasn't so sure of.

He rolled over onto his back and stared at the deck plating above him. As the feeling of her lips on his worked its way into the deepest recesses of his memory, he could only hope that they could work past this incident, and that he hadn't just screwed up one of the best friendships he'd had in years.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	24. Deniability

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Well, we're entering the home stretch now, I'm sorry to say. But there's still a little bit more to go, so...yeah. The reviews have been wonderful, you guys are the best - please keep them coming!

Any and all mistakes (barring the gorram QE word-squish) are mine alone (figures, I leave this out of the last chapter and find more than one obvious error in the text...oiy).

* * *

**PART TWENTY-THREE - Deniability**

Beka Valentine lay in bed aboard the _Maru_, staring into the darkness as she tried to fall asleep. But sleep evaded her as her thoughts ran faster than she could keep up, replaying the events of several hours ago as vividly as if they were happening at that very moment.

She couldn't explain her reaction, her multiple reactions. Okay, sure, her first hesitation could be rationed away, and it _had_ - wouldn't most human women have reservations about getting involved with a Nietzschean, especially one with his background? But she had moved past that at the time, obviously.

It wasn't the fact that he was Nietzschean that had scared her, although it was a convenient excuse. No, in her mind, now that she was able to reflect on it, she knew the true reason - commitment.

Now _that_ was a word that could turn her veins to ice. And nothing said Nietzschean more than that one word…well, for the most part. And that fact hadn't hit her until she'd heard his words of…his words. It was then that the realization that Nietzscheans took their relationships very seriously came crashing down on her, weighing so heavily that she couldn't breathe, couldn't think, that made her scramble out of that room as fast as she could.

Sure, he hadn't said anything to indicate commitment, but Beka wasn't about to chance it, not with a Nietzschean. And by his words, it was clear whatever did happen - whatever _might_ have happened - meant more to him than a bit of fun and need. But that's all it was for her, wasn't it?

_Of course that's all I want,_ she admonished herself._ Otherwise that damn word and its meaning wouldn't scare the hell out of me._

Realizing this line of thinking was not conducive to the slumber she sought, Beka willed herself to ignore the battle of rationale currently raging in her brain.

Closing her eyes, she focused on nothing, allowing the darkness to lull her into unconsciousness. But in one small corner the memory of earlier replayed over and over, keeping her just on the edge of oblivion. And so, she was aware just enough to make out the sound of footsteps echoing through the smaller ship.

Beka slowly opened her eyes, confused at first, but she soon grew wary. She quietly got out of her bed and threw a shirt over her bare shoulders, the pistol on a nearby table quickly found its way into her hand.

She made her way through the ship silently, not risking turning on any lights, merely making her way by memory. As she moved closer to the exit, intermittent lights caused her to blink until she became accustomed to them, and the sound of whispered voices carried to her ears. As she rounded a corner and saw who it was, she sighed and let the armed hand drop to her side.

"I told you we shouldn't disturb her," Rommie told her companion.

"I wasn't sleeping," Beka replied, a split second _after_ Trance's "She wasn't sleeping." The pilot gave her golden friend a strange look, but Trance merely shrugged.

"Good," Rommie replied brightly, then turned to woman beside her. She and Trance shared an indecipherable look.

Beka raised her eyebrows, skeptical. The two were occupying the area they had unofficially declared their "Girl Talk" space. What were the odds that they felt the need to congregate there during the same night as Beka's own crisis?

_Wait…when did it become a _crisis She shook her head slightly to drive the thought away, then focussed her attention on the two in front of her.

"Okay, so tell me," she demanded with a small smile, sliding down into one of the free chairs and curling her feet up underneath her, "Why exactly are you here?"

"We like it here?" Rommie asked innocently, not even bothering to sound convincing.

"Uh huh…" Beka nodded. "And the real reason?"

Trance and Rommie shared that look again. Then Trance turned to her human friend. "Well, you see…" she began, uncharacteristically timid, "I had this feeling, and Rommie had this surveillance footage…."

Beka's face contorted into a mixed expression of shock and horror as she stared at the android. "You did NOT…"

Rommie gave the First Officer a rather uncomfortable smile. "Well, no one engaged privacy mode, and I _am_ everywhere…" she trailed off as Beka hung her head in embarrassment. "If it makes you feel better," she began again, "It's not like it wasn't completely unexpected."

Beka flung her head back and sighed. "Oh, because that makes everything _much_ bet…" suddenly she snapped her head up to look at Rommie, then at Trance, who merely nodded. "Wait," her voice was suddenly very, very serious. "_What_?"

Rommie and Trance looked at each other once more, causing Beka to demand, a little more forcefully than she had intended, "Would you two stop doing that?"

Trance turned to her and gave her an understanding smile. "Beka, we've seen the way you two have been with each other--"

"So what?" Beka interrupted incredulously. "So we were friends, is that really that hard to believe?"

Rommie looked like she was about to say something to that effect, but Trance beat her, calling on Beka's wording. "_Were_?"

Beka turned to her and paused a moment, the meaning of her words sinking in. She hung her head, mentally exhausted. "I don't know. I have no idea what's going on in his head now."

"And what about _your_ head?"

Beka slowly looked up, her voice defensive. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Well," Rommie began, attempted to phrase her comment as delicately as possible, "In the beginning, at least, you weren't exactly resisting."

Beka's jaw dropped in disbelief, unable to form any words.

"What we mean, Beka," Trance spoke gently, "Is…have you stopped to think that maybe a part of you wanted to be with him?"

"Well I would think that's fairly obvious," Beka replied, shooting Rommie a look. The avatar shrugged innocently. "I mean, it's not like I've had any in…" she trailed off and cleared her throat in embarrassment.

Beka looked between her two female companions for a few moments, then shook her head. "I just wanted to have some fun. But I can tell you, that's definitely _not_ what he had in mind. Well…it _was_…but it was more. For him."

"Are you sure?"

She let out a small, sardonic laugh. "Yeah Trance, from his actions it was pretty clear."

"I'm not talking about Rhade," Trance corrected, causing Beka to frown in confusion. "Are you sure that's all _you_ wanted?"

Beka opened her mouth to answer in the affirmative - her head was telling her, without a doubt, that it was. But the expression of confusion on her face only intensified. For some reason, with her lips ready to speak the words, no sound came out.

-o-

On her way to Command the next day, Beka couldn't help but feel a sense of apprehension. Rhade would be there, and she didn't quite know what kind of mood he would be in. She could only imagine how she'd react if their roles were reversed. As it was, she was finding every excuse to drag her feet that morning.

Finally she had no choice but to step through those doors. Upon entering, she was immediately met with Dylan's, "So you decided to join us, then?"

She paused on the ramp leading to the center of Command and gave him an apologetic look. "Sorry," she said, her eyes then roving to the pilot console, and the Nietzschean operating it. "Rough night."

When Rhade glanced at her, she was expecting some sort of expression of anger, disappointment…_anything_. Instead he just gave her a quick glance, a brief nod to acknowledge her presence, and then he returned to his duties.

"Well don't make a habit of it," Dylan's voice broke through, bringing her attention back to him. "Lead by example."

"Right," she nodded.

Dylan moved off, and Beka took a deep breath before heading over to Rhade.

From the corner of his eye he saw her coming and he stepped away from the controls, prepared to let her take over. He turned when she arrived.

"Good morning," he replied, smiling pleasantly. Once she was passed he stepped down and headed to the weapons station.

Beka stepped up to the controls, frowning and discretely watching her Nietzschean crewmate as he moved across Command. That had been a lot easier than she thought it would be. She at least expected some hard feelings or the cold shoulder, not a friendly hello. Like the whole thing hadn't happened. She wasn't sure whether to be relieved or concerned.

The rest of the morning left her perplexed as well. The Command crew carried out normal operations, including the friendly banter that went along with it. At first Beka thought she'd finally got a reaction out of Rhade - or lack thereof - when it seemed he'd been ignoring her. But after a few jokes had gone around he had laughingly said something to her, so she figured she'd give him that. In fact, if anything, _she_ was the one acting strange, hardly saying anything unless she had to, or if he spoke first.

No one else seemed to notice except him, so he refrained from further conversation unless it was required. She was glad when she got a chance to get away for lunch. Upon her return she was immediately intercepted by Captain Hunt, before she had even reached her station.

"Beka, good. I've got a mission for you."

"Shoot."

He handed her a flexi. "A Vyshiian freighter carrying some trade goods to one of their colonies has been having some mechanical trouble. As a show of good faith, I've offered them the services of the _Maru_."

She looked over the details and gave him a amused grin. "You know, if you're gonna turn me back into a cargo runner, I might just have to charge you a fee."

Dylan shook his head, eyes laughing. "You leave in two hours, that should give Makhoiian enough time to ready the supplies."

She nodded. "Should be good."

Beka was aware throughout their little discussion that Rhade was moving up behind Dylan, but didn't think anything of it. That is, until the Captain gestured to him.

"Rhade will go with you." He started to turn away.

"What?" Beka asked, a little stunned.

Dylan looked at her deer-in-the-headlights expression, then to Rhade, and back to Beka once more. "Something wrong?"

"Not at all, Captain," Rhade answered, the picture of calm. He looked to Beka. "We should go get the _Maru_ in order."

"Uh, right," she managed. She then promptly turned and headed out of Command, well aware that Rhade was only a few steps behind her.

-o-

She expertly piloted her ship through the vastness of space, the silence of the cockpit leaving her to her own thoughts. And those thoughts were focussed on the Nietzschean who was currently somewhere aboard, in the small space.

Once they had gotten underway, with all the shop-talk over and done with, he had mentioned something about minor repairs he'd noticed needed doing, and had been doing those for the last few hours. On the one hand she was relieved, but she also had a feeling that he had gone off not for his own benefit, but for hers, because of the cautious way she acknowledged she'd been treating him with. And that made her a little ticked off - not at him, at least not completely, but at herself.

"Did you want any coffee?"

The voice from behind her startled her out of her thoughts. She was able to avoid jumping from the chair, managing enough discipline to induce a only a sharp intake of air.

_Probably heard it anyway,_ she grumbled to herself, turning around._ Damn Nietzschean perfection…._ Thankfully, he didn't show any sign that he knew he'd scared her, not that that really meant anything.

"I was just going to make some," he explained. Perfectly calm, perfectly ordinary. _Damn perfection!_ Why wasn't he acknowledging anything? And why did she care? She should be happy he held no hard feelings. Maybe they could get back to normal, she didn't want to lose her friend over this.

"Uh, no, I'm fine."

"Okay," he turned around and started to leave.

She was still watching his back, debating about saying anything. She shouldn't, she knew she shouldn't, she should just leave it be until he said anything. But then again, that pesky Valentine curiosity reared its head….

"Telemachus."

He turned around. "Yes?"

"What's going on?" Okay, so she hadn't meant to be that direct, but it if worked….

His face feel slightly and he looked to the metal grating underfoot. When he looked back up, there was an expression of resignation plastered to his features. "I suppose you want to do this now?"

It wasn't really the reaction she'd expected, but she'd take it. It was, after all, a reaction.

"Uh…I guess so."

There was an awkward pause - clearly he was waiting for whatever she wanted to say first.

"Right. So, uh, the other night - last night - when we were…."

He finally took pity on her and interrupted. "It's alright, Beka. You can forget it. I have."

She looked a little startled, confused. "Huh?"

He gave her a small grin, and one might assume that he was entirely at ease with the conversation. But she could read him better than that. "I value your friendship, Beka. Clearly I made an error in judgement, and for that I apologize. The last thing I want to do is jeopardize that friendship."

_Well,_ she thought,_ that certainly explains the happy-go-lucky Rhade today._ She wasn't quite sure what to make of the rest of his words, though. So she just said, "You, uh…you didn't."

The smile on his face turned a little more genuine. "That's good to know."

There was silence for a moment, neither sure what to say. Finally Rhade decided to change the subject. "Are you sure you don't want any coffee?" he gestured absently behind him, to the back of the _Maru._

Beka, a little thrown by the sudden change, shook her head. "No, I'm good."

He nodded. "Alright." With that he started walking away. Until….

"When did you know?"

He stopped abruptly, his back to her. He knew exactly what she was asking. He was quiet for a moment, then asked, "Do you really want to ask that?"

It wasn't a challenge, she could tell by his tone. He just wanted to make sure she was willing to go through with it before he answered, giving her a way out.

She hesitated. Did she really want to know? It would undoubtedly make things more awkward if he said anything else on the subject, same if she did. She was also a little concerned that he hadn't turned around - it would have helped to see what his own reaction was. She sighed. Maybe it was the Valentine curiosity, or maybe it was something else, but finally she affirmed, "Yes."

He slumped his shoulders a little, his back still to her. Turning his head to his shoulder, as if to look at her but stopping before his face was in full view, he sighed. "When did I first realize? Over the last few weeks."

She nodded absently. It made sense, they'd spent a lot of time together recently. She looked up when he continued, not having realized he had more to say.

"When did I first start to care?" This time he turned his head more, so he could lock his gaze with hers. "A lot longer than that."

She had nothing to say to that. She opened her mouth, but no sound came out. He waited a few seconds longer, then gave her one final, confirming nod of his head and left for the bowels of the ship. His footsteps echoed less and less as he moved further away.

Beka slumped back in her chair and stared out at the black void stretching out in front of her, tiny intermittent dots of light were the only interruption of the darkness. Maybe that hadn't been the best idea ever. She should have just left it off where he was willing to, or better yet, not have brought it up at all. He was willing to deny anything had happened, why couldn't she? She didn't reciprocate his feelings…well, certainly not his full feelings, at any rate.

If anything, she was more confused than she had been before.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	25. Enlightened Exogamy

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

First off, I would like to extend my profound apologies for neglecting this for so long, especially when it's so near to the end (although this is not the last part). My third year of University started, and I also had to find time to train and test (quite successfully, I am happy to say!) for my 2nd dan black belt in Tae Kwon Do somewhere in all that, and thus I have no idea how it came to be the end of October- to me, it still feels like the first week of September. To prove a point, let's just say that it has taken me this long to find time to post this next chapter, and a fair amount of this (and all of the next chapter, which was originally supposed to be included with this) was already written down on paper. Once again, I'm sorry I left it for so long, and I hope I still have one or two readers left!

Secondly, I'm not sure how satisfied I am with this chapter (great thing to add on a new chapter that's been neglected for how long, eh?). Basically I played around with it as much as I could, and I didn't think I myself could make it any better than it was, and so I decided to leave well enough alone and post it. It's not as if I think it is bad, just not as good as some of the others, and I hope it goes over well enough.

Lastly, I just want to thank my reviewers again for your comments - and again, I am very sorry to have made you wait so long for more. I can only hope this won't deter your willingness to continue on with it!

Any and all mistakes (barring the influence of the gorram QuickSquish) are mine alone.

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**PARTTWENTY-FOUR - Enlightened Exogamy**

Rhade was several meters behind Beka as they walked along one of the industrial sectors of the Vyshiian colony of Shiiani, having just arranged for a pickup of the cargo sitting in the hold of the _Maru_. For obvious reasons, he didn't feel like walking beside her, not that he suspected she minded. If only she could have left well enough alone…but no, he didn't blame her for their current mess. He could have lied, or left it at the first part of his answer, but he thought he owed it to her to be fully truthful.

The woman was a mystery to him, most of the time he couldn't explain his reaction to her. Every time he thought he was getting just that little bit further into her head, her heart - even if just as her friend - something new would throw him for a loss, right back to the beginning. She was headstrong, stubborn, she did what she herself wanted - they were all qualities that had drawn him to her in the first place.

When he'd first come aboard she'd been hostile, and while he had attempted to be patient, he hadn't been able to completely curb his reaction to give back equally. But they'd begun to move past that, slowly but surely, until he'd been taken and…tortured. In a twisted way, though, that nightmare had brought them closer to that coveted friendship, allowed them to form a deeper bond, one he didn't want to give up for anything.

But the question of the year was, would he have a choice in the matter? Those same qualities that held his interest might well end up working against him. And who was he to be thinking about choice? Despite the influence of three centuries of enlightened exogamy, he was still Nietzschean; he was the male, the choice had never been his to begin with.

-o-

Beka was back in the pilot seat, back in her element, and back in her solitude. It was no secret that Rhade had been keeping his distance, he wasn't even pretending nothing happened anymore. She knew him well enough to know that he'd never bring it back up, but it seemed quite clear that he wasn't allowing themselves to be put in a position where she could.

Not that she blamed him. But it seemed strange…only a few hours ago the ship wasn't big enough for the two of them, and now, if she didn't know better, she'd think she was all alone, and the vast spaces between the asteroids she was currently navigating only added to the feeling.

When the hell did her life get so complicated? …Scratch that, it had been complicated ever since she met up with a Nightsider in a dank bar more than three years ago. Hell, if she were honest with herself, it had been well before that, but it was then that it took on a whole new version of _complicated_.

But the point remained…her life was screwed up enough, she didn't need some renegade Nietzschean professing his undying love for her. That was a dimension of complicated that she just wasn't meant to deal with.

As she was thinking this, however, a small, nagging corner of her brain brought up the question, _When did he say anything about _undying?

That gave her pause only for a moment, made her question things for the quickest second, before she reminded herself that it shouldn't, that it didn't, matter. Time-travelling High Guard captains, blood-thirsty beasts, and maniacal walking lava lamps - these she could deal with; relationships, not so much. She'd had her fair share of those, and from personal experience she knew nothing good came from them, at least nothing long-term.

It wasn't a place she really wanted to go, but for some reason her thoughts ended up on the question of _why?_ As she'd just admitted, she'd been in many relationships in the past, but despite everything, why did she continue to pursue them if she knew they'd all end badly? Had she loved those others? Sure, a couple of them in fact…and even then, she went against her better judgement. She knew, no matter how good it got, it would end sometime.

_Then why bother?_ part of her conscious wanted to know. The answer was simple - because, for a time at least, she could pretend. She could be happy, content, she could have some fun for just that slightest bit of time…at some point down the line, she'd deemed it a worthwhile risk.

_Then why was it any different this time?_

She wanted to kill that voice. But she couldn't, it was making too much sense - why _did_ it make a difference this time? So his feelings were stronger for her…significantly stronger. That didn't negate the fact that she cared for him, too. To what extent, that question really couldn't be answered, not right now. But she'd been in similar situations before, where she was the lesser committed - it never really changed anything in the long run, at least not for her.

_But _he_ is different. The others never started out as friends, there was never a stake greater than a broken heart, there was no_ friend _to lose when those relationships inevitably ended._

Against her better judgement, Beka allowed those thoughts to swim around in her mind. It was true. In her life, her world, a friend was worth far more than any lover of the week. She'd never truly been friends with any of the others, not even the ones she'd allowed herself to love. It was far easier to avoid the risk than to hope everything would turn out for the best.

_You've always been a coward, Valentine. You would risk the lives of your friends rather than risk losing _them.

She wanted desperately to shut the little voice up, but it was particularly stubborn today.

Your relationship with Rhade is different, it always has been. You knew from the moment you met him on Tarazed that he was somehow different, and yet you did everything you could to lump him in with the rest of his kind. You even tried to provoke him into showing you what his true nature was, and all you did was force him to show you just how different he actually is.

She wished she could forget he'd ever said anything, or at least that she could chalk his feelings up to some sort of Nietzschean revelation regarding a recent realization that no, he wasn't invincible, and that he hadn't fulfilled his inherent instincts. But as of a few hours ago, he'd taken away that opportunity as well.

She cared about him, but she didn't love him, she knew that. The question remained, however…could she? Could she love a friend as more than a friend, more than the others? It had apparently never been enough before.

You know well enough that one or the other will never be enough, it's never meant to be enough. You'll travel headlong into a black hole, but you won't risk tying those two worlds together. You can have as many friends as you want, but you know in the end it'll just be you, all alone.

After all, it's what you want, right?

That was it. The impulsive part of her brain took over and her eyes locked onto her instruments, changing the _Maru's_ heading back to the asteroid field. After only a few short minutes she was gliding the wide-open lanes between objects, locating an average-sized, inconspicuous-looking rock to park behind.

Rhade must have realized something was up, she could hear him for the first time in awhile as he neared the cockpit. She disengaged the pilot's chair and stood up just as he entered, and she turned around.

"Something wrong?" he asked, curious yet fairly unconcerned as he noted her lack of alarm.

"No, not really," she answered, walking toward his position on the elevated level.

He raises his eyebrow. "So…?" He was confused, to say the least.

"So," she repeated, stopping just in front of him. Acting quickly, she grabbed the front of his shirt with both fists and pushed him back into the metal grating of the wall.

Instinctively he shot his own arms up and wrapped them around her wrists, preventing her form further action. Mere confusion was an understatement - he began to worry as memories of a past incident on this very ship were brought to the fore.

They locked eyes for a moment, and then she did what he was least expecting. Despite the grip he had on her wrists, she managed to push up on her toes and crush her lips to his.

His surprise was evident, but she was undeterred and unrelenting, and after a few moments she felt the iron vices around her forearms relax. He began responding to her actions, allowing her to deepen the kiss.

That lasted all of ten seconds, however, as his hand moved from her wrists to gently grip her shoulders. He applied firm, negative pressure and effectively broke them apart. They both had to catch their breaths.

"What are you doing?"

She looked up at him. "Well, I thought it was rather obvious."

"Beka," he breathed, not finding the situation nearly as funny as she apparently did.

She noted his mood and changed hers accordingly. "I'm fixing a mistake." She went to lean into him once more, but he stopped her.

"You don't feel the same." It wasn't a question, and it stopped her advances.

She locked gazes with him. "No, I…I don't know." She let out a slow breath. "You know my history, Telemachus. These things don't come easy to me." There was a miniscule pause before she added, "I do know I care about you, probably more than I should for a crewmate."

He eyes narrowed. "Could you?" He said it as a challenge, but there was a spark of desperate hope in his eye, one she could just make out.

Beka gave her head a slight shake. "I don't know." She took a deep breath, "But I'd like to risk--" she abruptly cut herself off, took another breath, and looked at him. That definitely wasn't the word to use right now. "I'd like to find out."

They regarded each other for several long moments. Beka searched Rhade's eyes, she could see his hesitation, his resolve, crumbling. Without losing eye contact, she slowly pushed forward, meeting no resistance. As her lips touched his once again he was ready and willing, closing his eyes against the sweet sensation.

After a few seconds holding the kiss, Beka strengthened her grip on his shirt, which she had maintained throughout their interaction. She spun them around, doing her best to keep contact with him as his back left the metal grating, and she pulled them into the corridor that connected the cockpit to the rest of the ship. Rhade wasn't in much of a frame of mind to object, his hands moving from her shoulders to her hips, stabilizing their proximity. As their hips remained locked, she began pulling him along, allowing the layout of her ship imprinted in the back of her mind to ensure they didn't crash into anything. At least, nothing too big.

Arriving in the crew quarters, they finally broke apart, panting, as their eyes once again sought the other's. Neither said anything, but they didn't have to.

Yes, she was definitely willing to find out. And he was more than willing to let her.

* * *

**To Be Continued...**


	26. Okay

See Prologue for Ratings and Disclaimer.

Okay, so I certainly never meant to go this long before posting this chapter. However I've been so swamped with assignments and readings and work that I wasn't even able to think about this, let alone work on it. I also wanted to upload it at the same time as the Epilogue, and so I had to find time to work on that (time that I really should have spent doing research, but this was much more fun!). Hope the wait was worth it!

And as always, any and all mistakes are mine.**

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**PART TWENTY-FIVE - Okay**

Two hours later, five hours later - who knew how long, exactly? - they lay nestled in the arms of one another, revelling in the comfort and serenity that the contact with the other, flesh on flesh, brought with it. In an alternating pattern of conversation and silence, both were contented to stay there indefinitely. And while both knew that was a fantasy that they couldn't allow to fruition, they were going to deny the real world for as long as they had time.

Finishing the mission early had never been this rewarding.

Another long bout of comfortable silence stretched throughout the small ship, and both idly wondered who would end up breaking it next, not that it really mattered. In the end, however, it was Telemachus' voice that filled the void.

"Beka, I want to be honest with you, open," he rolled on his side so he could better see her face. "Not just with what I have said, but with what I haven't."

She grinned mischievously. "Well, if it's about how good I am, obvious comments are not necessary, but always welcome." She slowly ran a hand along his muscled arm, her grin spreading wider. "But then again, I do seem to recall that being something you _have_ said, so…."

He chuckled deep in his throat and shook his head lightly. "It's not about that. Not that I wouldn't - won't, of course," he was quick to add. He leaned in slowly and pressed his lips against hers. The contact was brief, not nearly as intense as many they had previously shared, and yet it managed to strengthen the connection they'd forged not much earlier.

He pulled back and locked eyes with her once more, once she opened them of course. "It's something I need to get out."

Sensing his sincere tone, she nodded encouragingly while pushing herself up on an elbow.

He looked away at first, feeling a little uncomfortable and apprehensive about what he wanted to say. Finally he looked back and spoke. "Do you remember, a few weeks back, when you found that marker in Scipio's book?"

"The, uh, the one with the poem?" Of course she remembered that incident, it was hard to forget. But she didn't want to be the one to bring it up, though.

He nodded, and she sensed the tiniest bit of embarrassment emanating from him. Rhade took a breath and continued. "What happened that day, there was a reason behind it, one I want you to know."

"You don't have to--"

"I do," he affirmed. "When I was a child, along with all the regular drills and lessons I was expected to thrive on, my father insisted on a sort of mental conditioning exercise. In some ways, he believed this to be more important than all the rest, saying it had been a part of my family for a long time, my ancestor…my predecessor, he devised it as a survival tactic. My siblings and I were to take something familiar, a poem or quote, and we were to drill it into our minds until, once conjured, it was all we could concentrate on."

He wasn't sure if it was himself for Beka who initiated the contact, but his hand felt the familiar touch of her own, fingers interlacing with one another. "That familiar piece was to fill our minds, permeate our thoughts when it seemed as if a situation arose that could not be beaten…something that appeared hopeless." He dropped his head, and the last words were barely audible. Moments later he raised his head back up and continued on, his voice firmer. "A protective measure, in case the only thing left to protect was our minds." He couldn't keep the dregs of bitterness out of his voice as he added, "Relentless, senseless torture was one of those proposed situations. For me to have even considered it as an option…."

Beka noted the tone of his words, but she expected no less. He put on a good show of being over the ordeal, and she suspected that some of it truly was real. But she knew him better than that - while he might be healing, he was far from _healed_.

"I can guess where this is going," she said with a bit more glibness to her voice than she intended. The old habit of joking off an awkward, troubling topic was surfacing even as she sought to suppress it.

Luckily, he seemed to understand, offering a tight, small upturn of his lips. "And you do. That poem on the marker was the one I chose, one of my favourites at the time of my training. I was seven." His voice loosened as he attempted to lighten the sombre mood, "It really was an ingenious strategy, to have the future generation capable of suppressing that which would demean us, break us, make us weak. My father was always one for going back to the teachings of deep-rooted tradition, and--"

"Telemachus," Beka cut him off softly, causing him to turn his eyes back on her. It was obvious he had begun to stray from the topic, and she knew that he had started this conversation with the intention of finishing it, even if he didn't want to.

Her simple mention of his name was enough to remind him of what he was supposed to be concentrating on. He bowed his head ever so slightly to acknowledge this, as he returned to the previous topic. "The training was important to my father, and for good reason. It worked." Air slowly left his lungs as fragments of memories, some from years past and some just recently gone by, clouded his mind. "That poem, it…" he paused collect his thoughts and his composure - his heart rate had begun to climb just the tiniest bit, but enough so that his brain raced to implement a countermeasure before it became any sort of problem.

It could very well have been his imagination, but he thought he felt the smallest bit of pressure where Beka's hand met with his own. "It was able to keep the nightmares at bay, so much so that it became the nightmare itself.

"The words have been haunting me for months now, they have been controlling me, holding me captive…and it is taking considerable time and effort to lock them back up again. But I am trying…." Rhade finished, and he felt a jump in his pulse, a light surge of adrenaline coursing through his body - normally he would have been alarmed, but right now the only thing it brought with it was relief.

She sensed it was her turn to say something. "I think that helps to explain a few things a little more. Thank you."

He gave her a look that echoed her sentiments. They held their gazes a few seconsd longer before Beka pushed up a bit higher and softly pressed her lips to his forehead. He closed his eyes and absorbed the comfort her gesture sought to provide.

When she pulled back, he took a deep breath - he wasn't quite finished. "When you first looked at that marker…how much did you read?"

That was one question she hadn't been expecting, and it caught her off guard. But she had an inkling of where he was headed again, and she wasn't sure it was necessarily a good thing right now. Thinking fast, attempting to divert the inevitable, she answered, "Uh, most of it. All, I think."

He indulged her with a small upturn of the lips, but nonetheless said, "Openness and attempting to protect me can at times be mutually exclusive. You have to choose what's more important, more practical."

She sighed, looking a little sheepish, and amended, "The fist couple of lines, maybe…I don't really remember."

He nodded, expecting as much. "I think you should know what exactly it is that I am talking about." He allowed his eyes to wandered, adding, "And I think I should be the one to recite it for you."

Her own eyes widened a little, just in time to capture his once more. This time it was it was definitely her own hand forcing pressure on his, giving him her silent support - if it truly was what he thought he needed, she wasn't going to stop him. No matter what had just transpired between them, no matter how it had affected their relationship - something they had not quite worked out yet - he was first and foremost her friend, she had to keep that in her mind. And Beka Valentine trusted her friends to do what they truly thought was right.

Rhade reached over with his free hand - something that was somewhat difficult given that she was practically lying on the attached arm - and gently caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, giving his own silent thanks. He then used the hand attached to hers to tug a little, indicating that he wished her to be a little closer. She complied and settled against him as he leaned back, both staring upwards at nothing in particular.

After a few moments of enjoying the renewed contact between them, Rhade began to speak, his deep voice quiet and subdued, but gaining confidence as each syllable moved past his lips.

-o-

Sometime later they slept, regaining the energy they had spent. With the _Maru_ parked in an isolated region of this system, the low hum of the engines, working just enough to keep the environment comfortable and the rest of the systems idling, was the only sound filling the confined space.

Inside his mind, Rhade dreamt. About what, his conscious mind was not privy to, but it was reminded of peace, calm…of home, back when he felt he could still belong.

But as his body continued to sleep, the dreams slowly molded, casting shadows, darkening their imagery and emanations. Suddenly his conscious became aware of the content, absorbing the vivid detail. And before his body could even register what was happening, it was jostled from its resting state.

He shot up violently, leaning forward and breathing just a little too hard. He was instantly aware of his surroundings, his eyes adjusting to the dim illumination, the other senses straining to determine if there was a threat, a reason for his sudden heightened alert. His heart rate increased in anticipation. Seconds later, however, having established that there was no immediate danger, his mind relaxed, allowing his body to do the same. He glanced down at the arm partially outstretched in front of him, ready to either attack or defend. He didn't remember his bone blades extending, but they had.

During all of this, he was well aware that he was not alone. Having awoken when he had shot up due to her position curled up next to him, Beka, instantly roused, sat up as well. She placed a hand on the shoulder nearest to her side - he had already calmed by this point - and gave him a concerned look in the near-darkness. He appeared to be staring at his forearm with a pensive expression.

"Are you okay?" she implored quietly.

He did not respond right away, but he did turn to her, that same thoughtful expression. A few moments later he turned back to the empty air in front of him, frowning in concentration.

_Was_ he okay? That seemed to be the big question. Rhade focussed, trying to recall the details of the dream - the nightmare. He couldn't remember much…but was there really much _to_ remember? Using all the mental strength he had, he brought himself back to the juncture, back to where the dream had turned.

He saw himself on Makhoiian Drift, stalking through the narrow streets. He moved fast. There was a rhythmic sound slowly growing louder, footsteps approaching from behind. He continued to walk, ignoring the beginnings of the warning signals selectively bred into his being.

Suddenly, a sharp shooting pain in his upper back, and then…that was it. His conscious mind had broken through and he had shot up, awake, alert, prepared. Absently he ran his fingers over his one set of bone blades as they retracted to lie, resting, against his skin.

"Telemachus?"

He snapped out of his thoughts and turned back to face her concern-filled eyes. In the dim light, he gave her a slow, understanding smile, definitely the most genuine expression she'd seen from him in months.

"I think I will be."


	27. Epilogue

**EPILOGUE**

The _Maru_ spun and twisted in smooth movements, the strings of the Universe gliding by impossibly fast, and at the same time giving the small ship a directed path and the freedom of mobility. Rhade willingly gave up conscious control of his eyes, relaxing his focus, allowing them to concentrate of their own accord on the big picture, the whole visible field - to miss one tiny, seemingly insignificant aspect of the stream was to increase the likelihood of a sudden and untimely demise.

As he drew nearer to his destination, he slowly felt his chest harden, his breathing becoming deeper on its own. It was nothing serious, at least not physically, but he worried about it all the same. On the other side of that Slipstream could very well hold answers to questions he didn't want to think about.

He thought back to the woman sleeping not so far away - he hadn't wanted to wake her, but knew they had to return soon or face the wrath of a captain trying to negociate an alliance. He was uneasy about their returning. She was a very private person, and he had no idea what her stance would be on any of the recent…developments. Not that he didn't like to keep things to himself - oh, did he ever - but she was just as defensive. It was all well and good while they were alone and in an especially familiar place, but what would happen when they got back?

His keen hearing picked up the sound of light footfalls, alerting him to his presence as she moved into the cockpit, stopping on the upper level behind him.

"Hey," he greeted, keeping his eyes forward on the twisting coils outside the ship.

"Hey," he heard her answer, noting the smile in her voice. She didn't say anymore, allowing him to concentrate on their transit.

A short time later, moving partly on instinct, partly on something else, he focused his eyes and smoothly moved them out of the Slipstream, exiting the _Maru_ to normal space. Getting his bearings, he brought the ship around and they were greeted with the sight of the _Andromeda Ascendant_ not too far off.

Beka stepped down and came to stand beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he steered them forward, toward home. They received a quick hello and docking orders from the AI, and within minutes were settling down inside the massive warship.

Rhade disengaged the pilot chair and slid back, prompting Beka to swing a leg over and settle down in his lap, grinning. He smiled back.

"I think we should congratulate ourselves on a job well done," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

She shrugged. "Last minutes of solitude…" she leaned in and kissed him.

He held the kiss for a few moments longer, then slowly pulled away. "About that…" he waited until he had her complete attention. "I want you to know that, if you so choose, I will understand if you want to keep this…" he gestured between them, "…quiet. It's up to you, but know that I _would_ understand."

She frowned and sat back. "I, uh…o-okay…" she spoke more in the form of a question. But before she could elaborate, the sound of the bay doors opening drew their attention. She turned away to look through the viewing glass. "That'll be Captain Diplomat checking to make sure we didn't screw up." She stood up and headed for the exit, and he followed a few moments later.

As Beka stepped from the ship, she paused momentarily at their greeting party. "Wow, didn't know we were that popular," she said jovially, walking to meet them.

Harper stalked forward with his hands in the air. "You left before I could grab my good tools! Last time I do your ship a favor…."

As he jogged past, she couldn't help but laugh. "What, finally fixing what I told you to do a month ago?" He waved her off as he disappeared inside the ship, and she turned to greet the other two coming toward her. "Who's steering this thing?"

"Trance is up in Command," Dylan replied as he stepped forward, Rommie beside him. "Just making sure everything went well. You have the shipment confirmation for the Vyshiian?"

"Yeah, Rhade's got it," she gestured back behind her, where the man in question was just exiting.

"I'll get it to him, Captain," Rommie said pre-emptively, and started toward the Nietzschean.

"So, we miss anything?"

The Captain shook his head. "Nope, a nice quiet few days…although that is strange in and of itself."

Beka nodded. "Sorry we missed it."

He narrowed his eyes, slightly paranoid. "Why…what happened?"

Rhade and Rommie joined them just then, the avatar herself intending to go deliver the flexi in her hand but stopping when she heard her Captain's question.

When Beka said nothing, Rhade shook his head. "Nothing out of the ordinary, Captain."

Dylan looked at the Nietzschean, then back at his second, who merely shrugged. "Well…good. That's a nice change." He turned to leave the bay along with Rommie, but Beka's voice stopped him.

"Actually, Dylan, there is something."

Rhade turned to her, a little puzzled, and she took the opportunity to grab his head in her hands and pull him down roughly, his lips crushing against hers.

"Oh?" the Captain had asked as he turned back, only to be stopped short at the sight before him. After a few moments, he managed a distinctly different, "Oh…." Rommie clamped down on her artificial tongue and looked away, trying to keep her features neutral.

"Hey, Boss, where'd you put the -- ah!"

Harper's exclamation as he exited the ship was enough to break through and grab their attention, and Beka and Rhade pulled apart. Rhade blinked several times and tried to remain nonchalant as he quickly moved his gaze from one person to the next repeatedly. Beka turned to look at her long-time friend, and couldn't help but grin - she'd never seen his jaw quite so slackened before…the horrified look on his face was a nice touch, too.

After working his wide jaw a few times without sound, he finally managed, "What the hell was _that_?"

Beka tried to appear innocent as she replied, "What?"

"I, uh…" Dylan's attempt at speech drew everyone's attention. He shook his head in bewilderment and held up his hands. "I…okay." He turned around, not quite sure what to say, and started to leave, feeling a little embarrassed without knowing why. Rommie gave the couple one last look and allowed a small upturn of her lips before spinning on her heal and heading out.

"Sheesh…" the engineer muttered more to himself as he stomped back into the _Maru_, "Lost _again_…."

After a few seconds, Beka met Rhade's eyes. She moved her hands to the back of his neck, and he wrapped a loose arm around her lower back. Together, they both grinned.

Away from the action, up in the ship's Command, a golden avatar smiled.

**

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**THE END

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Well, there we are...I must say I'm quite surprised with myself, this is the longest (and technically, the only _true_) mutli-chap fic that I've ever managed to finish. It was also my first Andromeda story, and it certainly was a fun ride. I'll state for the record now that I _do_ have plans for a sequel, even have some idea of where I want to go with it, but I can guarantee that it won't be out anytime soon - I'm just way too busy this year (as it was, this story, in totality from when I started writing until now, took over a year). But the sequel I have planned is much more ambitious (at least for me) than this one, and it's something that I'm very excited to finally be able to concentrate on, so it _should_ get done at some point (although that particular fact I _won't_ guarantee!)

I'd just like to say thanks again for everyone that reviewed this story, all the positive comments and constructive criticism helped to make this story what it was, helped me to improve, and it was great to be able to branch out into another fandom. You guys are great!

Jamieson


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